


Our Love Has Vices and Virtues.

by the_sky_is_forever



Series: Our Love... [2]
Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-02-22 14:18:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 35,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2510738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_sky_is_forever/pseuds/the_sky_is_forever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a continuation of my other fic Our Love Is Pretty Odd. You don't need to read that to understand this, but you would probably get a little more out of it. :)<br/>Every chapter title is a line from a song on the album Vices & Virtues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Take A Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were vibrant and colourful, filling the room with an air of freedom – the crowd felt it and let themselves go, altogether as one they danced and sang back to the band, filled with happiness.

The audience was buzzing. Emotions were running high and there was an almost electric feel to the atmosphere. Standing behind the curtain, Brendon threw Ryan a grin. Ryan grinned back. It was a moment that they loved, that shared moment just as everything goes dark before the insanity and wonder of the actual concert.

The lights went down and the audience fell silent. Tension built.

And then the curtain dropped.

The scream from the crowd could have deafened Ryan but the music kicked in, and he lost himself in the sound of it. He heard Brendon yell into the crowd – he wasn’t sure what exactly, but it was probably something to the effect of “We’re Panic! At The Disco, and this is the sound of Pretty Odd!”

The tour was almost at an end; it was probably the best of their lives. They were in England and would be heading back to America the very next day; this was their last concert.

The audience shouted and screamed and stomped their feet and clapped their hands, and Brendon’s laughter sounded out over it before he launched into their first song, his voice loud and beautiful and confident.

The band threw themselves into it and gave the crowd as good a performance as they possibly could. They were vibrant and colourful, filling the room with an air of freedom – the crowd felt it and let themselves go, altogether as one they danced and sang back to the band, filled with happiness.

Brendon danced all across the stage, shaking his hips and grinning out into the crowd in an almost obnoxious manner. They loved it. Ryan watched him, a smile on his face. As Ryan played, he couldn’t take his eyes off Brendon. When Brendon turned to beam at Ryan he laughed too loudly, interrupting the song briefly. Brendon moved across the stage and threw his arm around Ryan’s shoulders, and Ryan’s voice joined Brendon’s in the microphone.

The crowd couldn’t stop screaming, singing along at the tops of their voices, making themselves hoarse but too happy to care.

Brendon planted a kiss on Ryan’s cheek and everyone in the room went wild. Brendon felt like he was walking on air and he pulled away from Ryan, dancing again. But when he reached the opposite side of the stage, he turned back to Ryan and blew him another kiss. Ryan laughed. Brendon bowed, theatrically.

Spencer was practically out of control, playing the drums like it was his intention to beat the Hell out of them. The rhythm he set sounded in the background of everything they played; they played to it while he played to them. He kept them in time and in tune with each other. He was a background played but, _God_ , he was so important.

Jon was towards the side of the stage, mirroring where Ryan stood. But then, Ryan rarely stayed where he was supposed to when Brendon dared Ryan to come to him with his eyes. Jon was happy to just play at the side; he lived off the feel of the audience and the sound of the music, but he wasn’t a ‘character’ like Brendon and Ryan were. He didn’t have their aura of dramatics. He didn’t need it. He was his own player.

Brendon was talking to the audience now, playing off them, begging them for more. His makeup was starting to smudge, giving him a whole new persona to fill, and he did. Launching into ‘Lying is the Most Fun’, he turned to smile suggestively at Ryan, winking and sauntering over.

_Is it still me that makes you sweat?_

_Am I who you think about in bed?_

His hand trailed across Ryan’s shoulders as he walked behind him, his mouth coming closer to Ryan’s ear, Ryan’s neck. Under any other circumstance, Ryan would be blushing, hiding his face, but here? Here he could act along. They danced up against one another as they played. The audience was singing along, their entire bodies alive with the moment, surrounded by the music of their favourite band and in awe of the beauty of it all. As the song dropped to instrumental, Ryan could feel Brendon’s lips on his skin. He shivered, turning to face Brendon, and their lips met, crashing together, tongues exploring each other’s mouths. Ryan was still playing, and it was a miracle he could. His knees felt weak. His head was spinning. The crowd was screaming.

All too soon, Brendon pulled away, singing again, and he pressed a quick kiss to Ryan’s nose. Ryan scrunched up his nose, pulling a face at Brendon as his husband started to move away. Brendon stuck his tongue out back at him and the pair laughed.

_Let’s get these teen hearts beating faster_

_Faster_

Later, as Brendon sang into the microphone, standing centre stage, Ryan stood next to him, leaning into his space, kissing his neck.

When they were playing, it was as though they had no self-control. The need to be near each other, to touch each other, was unbearable. And they always succumbed to it.

Brendon couldn’t stop the smile on his face. Everyone could hear it in his voice. It was contagious; his happiness was too strong to resist. Ryan grinned into Brendon’s neck before pulling away, strumming his guitar faster and faster.

Drenched in sweat, the four men played louder and louder, building and rising, until it all dropped away, leaving a resounding echo in the room.

The audience’s shouts filled the space as Brendon bowed deeply. His ran a hand through his dripping hair, breathing heavily. “Thank you!” He yelled, “Thank you for everything; it’s been awesome!”

Ryan pulled the guitar off from around his neck and leant it up against an amp. He waved out at the audience and smiled widely at them all, across from him Jon was doing the same, and Spencer was standing up. They all made their way to the front of the stage and bowed. Together.

Making their way off stage, Jon and Spencer started chatting, unable to stop smiling, and Brendon threw an arm around Ryan, pulling him in, not caring that they were both sweaty, or that they smelled awful; that was just how it was after a performance.

They could still hear the crowd hollering up a storm and Ryan turned to look over his shoulder back at them for a final time. Music started up, not their music – other bands, and the crowd began to dissipate, singing to the songs they knew but with less vigour. Ryan could see them all talking to each other, groups hugging, people chattering excitedly to people they knew and people they didn’t. Someone must have started singing, because soon enough the entire room was chanting the chorus to ‘I Write Sins’. Brendon laughed, happily. He looked at Ryan, “Our lives are awesome.”

Ryan could only nod in agreement.

*

The flight back home was awful. Cramped and overheated, they spent the entire time wriggling in their seats, unable to sleep. But finally, finally, they were home.

Touring was amazing. Seeing fans from all over the word was incredible. But nothing compared to being home.

Married life was fantastic, Brendon had discovered. Brendon and Ryan had their own home now. The simple domesticity of it was something that they appreciated infinitely more than an average couple would, they suspected. There was something so calming in coming home together after a concert or a day in the studio.

Sharing chores was good too – until it came to taking out the trash, at which point they would bicker for hours on end over whose turn it was. After a couple of months Ryan had drawn up a two week rota to spare them the effort of fighting. Ryan always cooked, and Brendon always did the washing up. Although they did tend to help each other out: Brendon would hang around the kitchen while Ryan cooked, handing him things and reading out instructions from various recipes, and Ryan would help Brendon dry up the dishes and put them away; they worked well as a team. Brendon hoovered. Ryan cleaned the bathroom. Brendon made the bed. Ryan did the ironing. They were practically a middle-aged couple. Sometimes when they were lying in bed at night one of them would mention it and they’d giggle like teenagers, wrapped in each other’s arms.

One thing about their house was that it was never silent; whether they were signing (Disney duets and rock ballads were their best) or listening to various albums on repeat, music was always playing in their house.

Right at that moment, Brendon was belting out ‘ _Livin’ on a Prayer_ ’ at the top of his voice as he wrestled with the sheet on their bed – he’d discovered that it was a good training technique for his breathing; if he could keep going while trying to get the damn sheet on, then he could definitely get through their set list at concerts while dancing.

Ryan was downstairs, watching TV. Or at least, he was trying to; he couldn’t hear much over Brendon’s singing. He glanced at the ceiling irritably. As if hearing Ryan’s thoughts, Brendon stopped singing. Then, “YESSS!” So, maybe he hadn’t heard Ryan’s thoughts.

When Brendon came bounding down the stairs a moment later, Ryan was expecting him and he smiled at him when he came into the room, “I guess you managed then?”

“Hells yeah,” Brendon grinned. Brendon threw himself down on the sofa next to Ryan and put his feet up on the coffee table.

“Jon and Spencer have invited us out tonight,” Ryan told Brendon, pulling his feet up and tucking his toes under Brendon’s leg.

“Cool,” Brendon said happily.

*

When six o’clock rolled around, the two of them headed over to Jon’s house, where Spencer already was.

Deciding they wanted to eat out, they all agreed on Italian food. They piled into Jon’s car, driving to a small downtown place where they were less likely to be recognised. Not that they minded being recognised, it was just nice to be normal for a bit.

The food was a bit second rate, but they enjoyed themselves never-the-less. Conversation flowed easily; they reminisced about the tour, and talked about the future.

Just as they were getting ready to leave (Jon had even stood up), a young girl – at least fifteen but no more than seventeen – approached the table nervously, “Um,” she said, “Hi.”

The four of them looked up in surprise, then they all smiled, realising who she was. Jon sat back down. “Hi there,” Ryan grinned.

“Sorry I just really love your band could I possibly get an autograph?” She said in a rush, not taking a breath.

Brendon chuckled, “Of course, we’d love to.” Then he frowned, “Do you have a pen and something we could sign?”

She nodded vigorously and held up a small notebook and a biro that she held in her hands. Jon, the nearest to her, smiled and took it off her, flipping it open to the nearest clean page and scrawling his name.

The girl threw a worried glance back at her family, on the other side of the restaurant, before turning to Brendon and Ryan, “I just wanted to say,” she took a deep breath, “That you guys are really brave.” Ryan looked surprised and Brendon raised his eyebrows. The girl carried on, “I mean you- you’re just _you_. You don’t care what people say about your relationship. Or that fact that you’re gay, or bi, or whatever.” Realising what she was saying, Brendon smiled at her. It seemed to make her more confident and she said the next sentence at a more relaxed pace, “I plan to… ‘Come out’,” – she made quotation marks in the air with her fingers – “To my parents soon. You guys have, well, you’ve inspired me.”

Ryan’s face broke open into a grin, “That makes me really happy to hear,” he told her, “Good luck.”

Brendon nodded, “Yeah, me too. What’s your name sweetheart?” Spencer had signed her notebook and Brendon was now holding it in one hand, pen poised over the paper.

She looked surprised. “Oh! My name’s Ellie!” She’d forgotten to say.

Brendon smiled and began to write something on the page. When he passed the book to Ryan, Ellie watched his eyes skim over it. He smiled and his eyes flicked up to look at Brendon. Then he started to write something too.

Shutting it, he passed it back to her, “Thanks,” she whispered, “Um, so I guess, yeah. Bye, then.”

They all chimed in their goodbyes, wishing her well and smiling.

As she turned away she opened the book, reading their words and walking slowing back to her table.

At the top, Jon and Spencer’s signatures were scrawled, one above the other. Then, underneath, were two more personal notes:

_Never be afraid to be who you are – Brendon Urie_

_Love who you want to love; be who you want to be – Ryan Ross_

She span round and grinned at them widely, calling another thank you to them. Ryan grinned and Brendon laughed, “That’s alright; enjoy your life, Ellie!”

Holding the notebook tightly to her stomach, Ellie re-joined her family, slipping into her seat, smiling.

Ryan turned to look at Brendon, breathing out heavily, “That was unexpected!”

“That was awesome,” Brendon corrected.

Ryan nodded, “That too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again...


	2. A Song Of Pure Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Life is the things you love: music and my friends and family, for me."

Ryan hated interviews. That wasn’t exactly a secret. He was in the band for the music, not to talk to people who didn’t really give a shit about them. In the past, he was able to just sit quietly and daydream his way through them; he didn’t have to talk much. Nowadays, however, he was constantly being asked questions. About him and Brendon.

Ryan once complained in the car about it, saying that it would have been easier to just not have gotten married, and Brendon had just laughed at him, scooping up his hand and kissing it, “No,” Brendon had said, “You looovvveee me.”

Ryan had laughed, “Never said that I didn’t.”

Brendon had grinned across at him, before fixing his eyes on the road again.

The point was: Ryan hated interviews, more than anything, which made it incredibly difficult for him to pay attention during them.

The interviewer stared at Ryan. Tiredly, he noticed that her blonde hair was making a wild attempt to slip out of its grips. Ryan blinked, frowning and creasing his forehead in confusion, “Sorry, what did you ask me?”

Brendon tried to bite back a laugh, sat next to him, and it came out as a snort. Brendon determinedly didn’t look at Ryan, staring straight at the woman and pinching his lips together.

The woman – what was her name? Ryan was sure she’d told them. Sarah? Sally? Something like that – politely smiled at him, “How are you finding married life?” She repeated, and Ryan had to stop himself from groaning, or sighing at the very least. If he’d had to guess her question, that would have been his guess. Everyone asked him that.

“Grand,” he said simply, letting his body slide down the chair slightly, showing his boredom. Brendon was still trying not to laugh and he elbowed Ryan in the side. Ryan forced himself to sit up with a sideways glance at Brendon. “I mean,” he started again; “It’s been really great. Honestly, being married to Brendon... It’s being married to my best friend. There’s nothing quite like it.”

The interviewer seemed happy with that answer and she smiled at him, “I’m glad to hear it.”

Ryan idly wondered why on Earth she would care.

When she turned to Brendon and posed the same question, Brendon smiled at her in a way Ryan never could manage. Unlike Ryan, Brendon seemed perfectly happy to sit for interviews and answer their endless repetitive questions. “Ryan Ross…” Brendon mused, “Where to begin…”

The interviewer giggled.

“Ryan’s wonderful,” Brendon admitted, with a quick glance at the man in question, “I suppose married life for us is how it is for everyone. We have our ups and downs. Mostly we argue about household chores, but Ry’s got that down to a T.” Ryan smirked at that. “But I love it,” Brendon continued, “Everything about being married to him. I love it all.” Brendon wasn’t looking at the interviewer now; he was just looking at Ryan.

Ryan looked back at him and smiled, before teasing him, “You’re such a sap.”

“Says you,” Brendon laughed.

Then the interviewer turned to Jon and Spencer, “What’s your view on their marriage?”

Jon rolled his eyes, “What is this? Panic! At The Disco or Ryan slash Brendon?”

Spencer sighed loudly, joining in, “There’s nothing more annoying than their relationship. You guys only see a little of this! We have it all the time!”

As they carried on in the same vein, Ryan and Brendon were desperately trying not to laugh and the interviewer didn’t seem to quite know how to react.

About five minutes later, when Jon and Spencer were taking it in turns to name the most irritating things that the couple did (most of which were made up – Brendon’s personal favourite was their supposed make-out sessions on Spencer’s drum kit, although he wasn’t sure how exactly they’d manage that), Ryan broke. He burst out laughing, ruining the others too. All four of them choked, laughing hard, and the interviewer looked relieved.

Spencer shook his head, grinning, “Nah, they’re perfect for each other,” he said, the first honest comment.

“They always have belonged together,” Jon added, smiling, “Whether as best friends or as the greatest couple I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, they’ve always belonged together.”

Spencer nodded his assent. Brendon and Ryan’s hands found each other, fingers twisting together. Ryan felt a drop in his stomach as Brendon smiled at him, eyes saying that he wanted to kiss him. Pushing the feeling aside, reminding himself that they were made for each other and it was just boredom from the interview, he smiled back and leant across to stage-whisper to Brendon, “Later,” winking over-dramatically. Brendon giggled. Spencer and Jon rolled their eyes. The interviewer looked a little uncomfortable.

The rest of the interview passed in a blur of jokes, ridiculous questions, and a moment of weight when she asked about the future of the band.

Ryan wasn’t really paying attention though. Or at least he wasn’t paying attention to the interview. He was paying attention to the weight of Brendon’s hand in his own and the way light was coming in through the window, promising escape. Brendon had told him that it was only a half hour interview, but Ryan was sure that they’d been sat there for at least a week.

The only question that really caught his attention came right at the end, and then woman – really, Ryan should know her name. God, what was it? Maybe it was Susan or Sandy? – apologised for the weighty question before asking them, “What’s the meaning of life to you individually?”

Jon shrugged, “I’m all about the music,” he said, non-committal. “I don’t really know,” he added, “I try not to think about that kinda stuff; what’s the point?”

Spencer struggled with it, saying that he didn’t think he could give an answer when there was still so much about life and the world that he didn’t know.

Ryan was waiting to hear Brendon’s answer before he offered one.

Brendon smiled slightly, looking down at the ground, “I always try to never give the same answer twice, whether in an interview or just in general,” he looked back up at the woman and then his eyes found Ryan, “But if anyone asks me that question, my answer is always ‘love’. I will swear by that the meaning of life is to love and to be loved. Life is the one person who means the most to you.”

The interviewer seemed to melt, smiling and sighing at Brendon’s words. Ryan suspected that she may have a slight crush on his husband.

Ryan looked back at Brendon and wondered why his smile was feeling so forced. It convinced Brendon though, clearly, because Brendon’s expression didn’t change.

“And you, Ryan?” The interviewer prompted.

He bit his lip, “I suppose I agree with all of the others in part,” he told her.

She _tssk_ ed, “Oh, come on, you can do better than that.”

Ryan shook his head, “No, really. Life is the things you love: music and my friends and family, for me, but I also agree with Spencer – I haven’t lived anywhere near long enough to know what life is about, if I’ll ever know.

That seemed to appease her and she smiled at him, “Fair enough.”

Her eyes dropped to scan over the papers she held in her hands and when she looked back up she told them that was all the questions she had.

Ryan let out a sigh of relief and he muttered, “Thank God,” under his breath, making Brendon tut at him and roll his eyes. Ryan didn’t care and he turned a butter-wouldn’t-melt smile on Brendon.

Brendon stood up as the interviewer did, and he offered his hand to her, saying, “Thanks for the wonderful questions, Samantha.”

Ryan thought about how he hadn’t been too far off in his guesses about her name and smiled at her, standing up too.

Samantha took Brendon’s hand, shaking it, and telling them all that it had been her pleasure. Ryan rolled his eyes at that because of course it had been her pleasure. She’d been paid to sit and stare at Brendon Urie for half an hour and _anyone_ – gayest woman and straightest man included – would find that to their pleasure.

*

When they finally got home, Ryan was still complaining about the interview. Brendon sighed for what must have been the thousandth time since leaving, “Ryan, keep in mind that the fans love it.”

“Don’t see why,” Ryan grumbled. Brendon just laughed at him, putting the key in the lock and opening their front door.

Moving into the front room, Ryan collapsed on the sofa, kicking off his shoes and letting out a sigh of relief. Jon and Spencer joined them a moment later, having come in a second car. The four of them lazed around for a few hours, talking, before Brendon pointed out half-heartedly that they hadn’t practiced all week. The way he brought it up showed exactly how much he would rather just relax, and the others secretly agreed with him. They didn’t say that however, knowing that they really should practice – they hadn’t since getting back off tour.

It was early June and the sun shone down hotly through the windows as they played together. They wrote music pretty much constantly, but it wasn’t their aim right then. That day, all they were doing was making sure they didn’t lose connection with each other in their playing.

They ran through a lot of their songs, not focussing much on accuracy – playing for the simple joy of working together as a band.

Hours later when they were finished, Jon and Spencer went in search of beer as Ryan and Brendon stayed a little long, singing together under the guise of practicing their harmonies. Jon and Spencer weren’t fooled, obviously, and they knew that Ryan and Brendon just wanted to sing to each other for a while. That was just the way they were. As Ryan had said, almost two years ago now, their lives were a musical.

As they fell into bed together at long last, the sun had set. Spencer and Jon had drunk almost all their beer and then left, waving goodbye and bowing, drunkenly. Ryan had only wasted a moment on hoping they weren’t going to drive.

Brendon immediately wrapped himself around Ryan, pulling him in. Ryan pretended to protest, mock-fighting Brendon’s arms with a laugh, but he soon gave in and allowed Brendon to kiss his lips, smiling.

Lying in bed, curled up to each other, they talked in whispers. They had no need to be quiet, but it was nice to allow the night some control over them and they let it take the volume, only fighting back a little with their hushed words. Outside, cars still drove past, occasional burst of lights from headlights and sound from the engines and stereos if the windows were down, allowing the warm summer air in.

They were talking about music, and the songs they sung to each other, and Brendon’s heart was fit to burst with love for the man lying in front of him.

“Ours is a song that all of the world would love to hear on repeat,” Brendon told Ryan with a smile and a kiss for good measure.

Ryan giggled against Brendon’s lips, “We’re a classic, baby.” His eyes were shining in the darkness of the room, squinting a little as he beamed.

“Damn right,” Brendon replied, pecking his lips again and sighing happily.

Wrapped in each other’s arms, bare legs twisting together, they giggled, their laughter interspersed with kisses. One of Brendon’s hands was running down Ryan’s leg, fingers twisting with the hair, playing with it gently. Ryan protested his actions, telling him it was tickling him, and Brendon laughed, answering that he was laughing anyway so what did it matter?

They were reminded of being a teenager with their first love and Brendon decided that the feeling of love rarely changed – he still fell as hard and as fast as he had when he was fifteen. And even more so – he still got that butterfly feeling every time Ryan kissed him, everytime Ryan touched him.

The past three years of his relationship with Ryan had told him a lot about himself, but most of all it had taught him what love was and how special it was when you were with the person you loved. _All control to the one you love_ , Brendon thought, knowing that Ryan had him wrapped around his little finger and he wouldn’t want that to change ever. Ryan’s lips were against his ear, kissing it sweetly and murmuring words of nothing but love. Brendon smiled and shifted so that Ryan’s mouth was forced to find its way to Brendon’s own.

Their kisses were lazy, sharing oxygen languidly. Ryan’s breath was warm on his face and his hands were too, wrapped around his waist. Brendon pulled their bodies together, chests and stomachs pressed up against each other. It felt to Brendon that no matter how close they were, it was never enough. The kiss itself becoming more fervent, his hands ran all over Ryan’s body as he kissed him, down his back, along his shoulders, through his hair, around his neck – pulling Ryan closer all the time, wanting only to be as close to Ryan as their separate bodies would allow them to be. Distractedly Brendon thought about how Goddamn awful it was that Ryan’s legs and arms were not constantly wrapped around him.

Ryan loved the feel of Brendon’s body against his own, sharing Brendon’s unspoken opinion that they had been designed to press together. If there was only one thing that Ryan knew, it was that he would love Brendon until the end of time, and that he would love him like it was his destiny.

Brendon’s lips pressed to the curve of Ryan’s spine, admiring the smooth of his back as he moved upwards to push Ryan’s shirt off his skin. As they moved together, lips finding each other in the darkness, Brendon couldn’t help but love every part of Ryan that his kisses could find: the hollow of his neck, the indent of his hips, and the toned warm skin of his stomach.

In the small hours of the morning, they fell asleep together, breathing starting to slow, covered in each other, and their naked bodies were wrapped as closely as they possibly could be, leaving so much space surrounding them in their bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ryan Ross' blatant boredom in interviews gives me life.  
> Also, this is a general PSA to say that I will most likely never write explicit smut into this fic. It /might/ happen. But really? Nah. It happened back in ch. 9 of OLIPO and that was awful. I'm ace and really bad at writing stuff like that, so it's just not going to happen. This vague alluding to it is the best you're going to get. Sorry if that's in any way disappointing to you!


	3. Oh, Kiss Me!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He gently kissed Ryan’s jawline and smiled against his skin, “I love you, so much,” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have some very important things to say about this chapter in the Author’s Note at the end that I insist you read – but not till you have read this chapter, because it contains spoilers, but it’s important to me that you read it.

Weeks passed by and one day Brendon woke up alone in the bed. He frowned, hands reaching out in the hopes that they would find Ryan somewhere in the sheets, though he already knew they wouldn’t. Running through all the possibilities, Brendon couldn’t think of a single valid reason as to why Ryan would have gotten up already. Then he poked his head out from under the covers and smelt bacon. A smile settled in on Brendon’s face and he hopped out of bed, padding across the room and down to the kitchen. Ryan was in there, as Brendon had assumed, and all of his attention was on the bacon. “Good morning,” Brendon said, pleasantly.

Ryan jumped, letting out a squeak of surprise and then he turned to Brendon, looking oddly disapproving, “No!” Ryan told him, “You’re supposed to stay in bed!”

Brendon frowned at him, “Um, why?”

Ryan sighed, “It was a surprise.”

Brendon laughed, “That’s alright – I’m plenty surprised.”

A look of dawning comprehension crossed Ryan’s face and he rolled his eyes at Brendon, “You don’t know what day it is, do you?”

Brendon’s confusion returned, stronger than before and he creased his forehead as he thought about it, “Uh,” he pondered, “Tuesday?”

Ryan sighed and waved the plastic spatula in his direction, “Well, firstly, no, it’s Thursday. But, besides that, you are unbelievable. Aren’t you supposed to remember for at least the first five years?”

Brendon was utterly lost, “Remember what?” he asked Ryan.

“Our wedding anniversary!” Ryan cried out.

And then it hit Brendon. “Shit, is it the 27th?” He had to refrain from hitting himself in the face, and then he remembered himself, “Oh, my God! I love you!” Ryan laughed at Brendon’s weak attempt to make up for his forgetting and let Brendon pick him up and whirl him round, kissing him. Brendon set Ryan down and kissed him again, when he pulled back he gave Ryan an apologetic smile, “I’m sorry for forgetting.”

Ryan sighed and laughed slightly, “That’s alright.”

Ryan pulled away from him to check the bacon, and Brendon frowned, muttering to himself, “Oh, crap.” Ryan turned to ask what was wrong, but Brendon was already rushing from the room. Ryan stared after him, wondering what on Earth that was about.

Brendon reached their room and began scrambling about for his phone desperately. Finding it, he hit speed dial for Spencer and waited, praying that Spencer would answer. When Spencer picked up the first words out of his friend’s mouth was, “Happy wedding anniversary!”

Brendon groaned, “Did everyone remember but me?”

He could hear Spencer’s exasperation at him in the heavy sigh that followed his words, and then he heard Spencer yelling at someone, “Alright, I owe you five bucks,” resignedly.

Brendon frowned at his phone, “Did you bet Jon that I would forget?” he asked as he heard their other friend whoop loudly.

Spencer laughed, “No, _he_ bet me that you would forget. I bet that you would remember. Which was obviously a mistake.”

Brendon moaned, “You gotta help me, Spencer.”

“What do you need me to do?”

*

Brendon made his way back to the kitchen, where he could hear Ryan humming as he dished up the bacon onto plates. As he arrived in the doorway, Ryan was picking up a wooden tray, laden with food and drink. Brendon smiled at him. Ryan shook his head, “Nuh uh, back to bed Mr. Ross-Urie.”

Brendon laughed at the use of their shared name – for the most part, they just stuck to their own individual surnames; it was easier, but the occasional reminder of the full name was nice.

Brendon let himself be shepherded back to their room, Ryan just behind him with their breakfast.

Clambering back into bed, Ryan placed the food down in-between them carefully, “Don’t knock it over,” he cautioned, and Brendon scoffed. As if he would be that clumsy. Ryan raised an eyebrow and Brendon was forced to admit that, okay, he probably would be that clumsy.

“This smells so good,” Brendon said, fingers stretching out to pick up two slices of bread and a couple of rashers of bacon.

“You smell better,” Ryan told him, resting his head on Brendon’s shoulder and looking up at him in adoration.

“Later,” Brendon chided, “For now we have bacon.”

Ryan giggled and moved away slightly to help himself to some, succumbing to the smell, his mouth watering.

Digging in, Ryan almost stopped paying attention to Brendon – until he heard the sound of a camera phone. Turning to face his husband, mouth stuffed with bacon and bread, Ryan found Brendon’s phone pointed right at his face and a grinning Brendon was behind it. The camera snapped again. “Brendon!” Ryan exclaimed, bits of bacon spitting out accidentally. He swallowed painfully, “No! Delete those!”

Brendon laughed, delightedly, “Not a chance.” He turned the phone round so Ryan could see the picture. Ryan’s eyes widened at the sight of his face filling the screen, stuffing food that there obviously wasn’t room for into his mouth. Brendon giggled, “This one’s going on twitter.”

“No!” Ryan cried, making a grab for the phone.

Brendon moved out of Ryan’s reach, laughing loudly. Ryan hit Brendon, and the tray with their coffee and food on rattled with the action, “Alright, alright,” Brendon cried. Ryan settled back, glaring at Brendon with suspicion. “At least take a selfie with me,” Brendon said, smiling sweetly, “It’s what the fans want.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. Sighing, he moved into Brendon’s space, allowing just one selfie, “Pull a face,” Brendon told him. Ryan sighed again and then scrunched his face up in the most hideous way he could and he could feel Brendon doing the same. Then the camera clicked. Ryan relaxed his face and, looking at the picture of them, he felt a giggle rise up. As he watched, Brendon uploaded it to his personal twitter with the caption: _Two years, happily married :)_

Ryan chuckled. It didn’t take long for them to get an overwhelming amount of response. Ryan plucked the phone out of Brendon’s hands and began to scroll through the comments, laughing and reading out his favourites, “Oh, look at this one! She wants to know how we still look so beautiful.” He squinted, “Are we looking at the same photo that she is?”

Brendon laughed at Ryan, “No matter what we look like, we’ll always be beautiful to them. It comes with the whole ‘adoring fans’ thing.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. Again. He did that a lot while married to Brendon.

Brendon took the phone back, taking charge of scrolling through the @replies.

@panicattheparty: _@brendonurie you guys are so cute together :’)_

@ryden4ever: _@brendonurie @thisisryanross MY HEART CANNOT TAKE THIS_

@panickingalways: _@brendonurie Happy anniversary!! Xx_

And then:

@iamjonwalker: _@brendonurie I was enjoying my morning til I saw this._

@TheSpencerSmith: _@brendonurie @thisisryanross Get your butts out of bed._

Brendon laughed out loud and showed their friend’s messages to Ryan. Ryan laughed too. “Pass me the phone,” he said. When Brendon did, Ryan took another selfie, of just him with his middle finger up to the camera. Then he tweeted it to Jon and Spencer without any other comment. Brendon laughed. “They’ll get you back for that,” he told Ryan.

Ryan grinned at him, “Don’t care.” He dropped the phone onto the bedside table and ignored its constant beeping in favour of pressing his lips firmly to Brendon’s.

When Ryan pulled away, turning back to his coffee, Brendon lay next to him, staring at him and smiling. There was something inside of him, something on fire – but not an aggressive fire, a soft one, one that brought warmth to everything he did, and everything he said, one that made his life glow, beautiful and occasionally destructive, but only in the best possible way. That fire was Ryan – that fire was his love. Brendon smiled at Ryan’s profile, watching the way he sipped at his drink, feeling so full of love for the man that he wasn’t sure how he’d ever show it enough. So he gently kissed Ryan’s jawline and smiled against his skin, “I love you, so much,” he whispered.

Ryan smiled, not turning his head to look at Brendon, just letting him kiss him, “I love you too.”

*

The doorbell rang about lunch time, just as Brendon received a text message that read simply: _Your delivery awaits, Sire._ from Spencer. Brendon smiled at his phone and Ryan asked who it was. Quickly, Brendon clicked his phone off and put it down, rolling to face Ryan in the bed where they still lay, “Can you go get the door?”

Ryan frowned at him, “But I don’t wanna.”

Brendon rolled his eyes at him, “Just go do it.”

Grumbling, Ryan pulled himself out of their bed, and Brendon grinned at him as he left the room, throwing a glare back at Brendon. Brendon lay there, listening to Ryan patter down the hallway and down the stairs. Brendon smiled up at the ceiling, before jumping out of bed and following his husband. He heard Ryan open the door as he came down the stairs and then he heard an awed, “Oh my God.”

Coming round the corner, Brendon was just in time to see Ryan lean down and pick up the bouquet of roses that lay on the doorstep. Ryan leant in to smell the roses and Brendon leant up against the wall, smiling, “Like them?”

Ryan spun round and grinned at him, “I love them,” he said, “I thought you’d forgotten?”

Brendon pulled a face, “I did,” he admitted. “Jon and Spencer are saints.”

Ryan laughed, walking nearer and putting his arms around Brendon’s neck, “It’s a good thing I like you when you’re a devil then, isn’t it.”

Brendon laughed in response and kissed Ryan, “Happy anniversary, my love.”

*

Brendon put his lips to the bottle and drank most of it in one gulp, aggressively, before dropping the bottle to the floor, uncaring about the mess that it made. Ryan watched him with darkened eyes. Turning away, Brendon stalked across the room, every motion taught and filled with anger. He turned back to Ryan, “When were you going to tell me?” he demanded.

Ryan flinched, “Brendon, it’s not a big deal-,”

“Not a big deal?” He shouted over the rest of Ryan’s feeble protest.

It had been three days. Three days since their anniversary. Two days since Brendon had found the email.

“It’s not serious, Brendon, I’m just… thinking about it.” Ryan said weakly. “I don’t know why you’re so upset.”

Brendon laughed, drily.

Ryan shook his head, “You can’t be upset about this, Bren, you just can’t. I haven’t spoken to you about it because I needed to think. I’m not quitting the band, it would just be something more in case I ever want to-,”

Brendon pressed his fingers into his eyelids then rubbed at his face, going upwards so that his fingers ran through his hair, “You think _that’s_ what I’m upset about?” He sighed, interrupting Ryan, “Fuck, Ryan, I’m _upset_ that you didn’t talk to me about it.”

“I was going to talk to you when I’d made up my mind a little!” Ryan tried to say, but he didn’t get past ‘going’ because Brendon shouted over him.

“Well good for you! I’m glad that you were eventually going to tell your husband that you’re starting a whole new fucking life!”

Ryan started, “Brendon, it’s a band, not a life.”

“Have those things ever been different for us?” Brendon demanded, and he was on edge, firing out aggressive questions and comments here and there. In the back of his mind, he was fully away he was being ridiculous. There was nothing wrong with Ryan considering joining a new band, and there was nothing to say about the fact that Ryan hadn’t mentioned it yet. It was perfectly within Ryan’s right to keep this quiet for a little longer – just not from him. Not from his husband: no secrets – that was the deal.

Ryan gave Brendon a moment to breathe – hoping that he’d calm down and rationalise a bit. Then he spoke, softly, “Brendon, if I decided to leave Panic! I would still be with you and I would still love you. It wouldn’t change my relationship with you in the slightest, and neither would this _if I even go for it_. Which I haven’t even decided on yet.”

Brendon looked like he wanted to hit Ryan, “I DON’T CARE ABOUT THE BAND!” He exploded. Then he took a deep breath, “I _care_ about the fact that you haven’t mentioned this until _I accidentally found out!”_  Ryan blinked at him and Brendon felt his anger surge through him. He whirled round, away from Ryan, “Oh, my God, you don’t even see what you’ve done wrong!”

“I haven’t done anything wrong!” Ryan protested.

Brendon’s mind was fuzzy from the argument and the drink combined and he didn’t care. His fingers were twitching and his nerve endings were on fire. “I can’t even- I can’t even look at you right now, I just- I can’t believe you, Ryan.”

A terse silence followed his words and Brendon stared at the wall, his back to Ryan. Then he spoke softly, “No, I- I need to go. I’ll be back – I don’t know when.”

Ryan watched him go and an anxious feeling swelled inside him, terrified of where Brendon was going to go but all the while feeling that this wasn’t his fault.

*

Brendon had found the bar after walking for only half an hour through the city. It was cold and dark outside but the inside of the bar had promised warmth and drink and the vibrancy of live so he’d gone in willingly. Having drunk what felt like everything the bar had to offer, Brendon was well and truly drunk. Thinking back on the night, he’d like to be able to blame that on what he did next.

In reality, it was because he was mad at Ryan and because he was a shitty husband – in Brendon’s words, of course.

Her skin was soft and her lips tasted like wine and various other drinks. Brendon kissed those lips, and he touched that skin, and the whole time her mouth was on him, all he could think was: _Oh, God, I love him._  

When he left, hours later, he thought he might be sick – and it wasn’t just from the alcohol.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DO NOT CONDONE CHEATING. Not in any way. I think cheating is despicable and gross. I do not condone what Brendon did. If a partner cheats on you, I highly advise that you leave said partner. That being said, my ‘beta’ of sorts and I talked about this for weeks before deciding that we were going to go down this route and we decided on it because it worked well with ideas that we had for later in this fic. I apologise for any discomfort caused by this plot line.


	4. Where'd You Go?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He stared at Brendon as he sat at the dining room table in their kitchen-diner and asked calmly and quietly, “Where were you last night?”

Ryan was waiting for him when Brendon stumbled in, late morning, clearly still drunk; his clothes were hanging partially off him and his hair was all over the place. Ryan noticed all of those things, and his mind immediately pieced it together. He wanted to shut his eyes, wanted to block all of it out, but he didn’t. He stared at Brendon as he sat at the dining room table in their kitchen-diner and asked calmly and quietly, “Where were you last night?”

“Out,” Brendon grunted, not giving any more details than that, fighting off the sinking feeling in his stomach as he knew he’d have to tell Ryan eventually. He headed to the sink to get a glass of water – maybe something stronger if he could find it. More alcohol might get the feel of that stranger’s hands off his skin.

“Brendon,” Ryan said, firmly, his voice quiet but commanding. Brendon’s eyes jumped up to meet his. “Where were you last night?” Ryan repeated his question, and Brendon knew that he knew. Ryan _knew._ Ryan knew where he had been, what he had done… That he’d touched someone else.

Brendon’s eyes dropped and stared resolutely at the kitchen counter. Ryan stared at Brendon’s back, waiting patiently for Brendon to confirm what he already knew. Brendon didn’t – even if he’d wanted to (which he didn’t) he wasn’t sure he could get himself to talk, his mouth felt dry and his throat felt thick with the betrayal of it all.

“Maybe I should ask a different question,” Ryan said, and his voice was barely controlled, “ _Who were you with last night, Brendon?_ ”

Brendon swallowed, and then it all came pouring out. Ryan just sat there in silence, listening as Brendon babbled, spitting all his words out in a mess. Ryan was staring at him. He wasn’t yelling. He wasn’t crying. He was just sitting there, staring in a resigned silence as Brendon told him everything – as Brendon tore out Ryan’s heart. Brendon couldn’t help but feel that it would be easier if Ryan would yell. But he didn’t. He just sat there. Anger would have been a much preferred response than this… submission.

“What was her name?” Ryan asked, softly, eyes closing as if he could wish away the stark reality. Brendon wished that too, of course, but that didn’t mean that they could.

“What?” Brendon was caught off guard, not expecting the question. Ryan repeated the question, opening his brown eyes with a sigh in his voice, needing to know this one little truth. Brendon paused, then, “I don’t know.” He admitted it softly, but he was unsure if knowing would have made this better or worse.

Ryan nodded, observing Brendon with a heart shattering detachedness. Then he stood up. Swallowed. “Well, at least I know what you think of our marriage now,” he said. “I’ll sleep in the spare room tonight.”

Then he left the room, leaving Brendon standing in the kitchen feeling like someone had reached into his gut and pulled everything he had out. He felt empty. It wasn’t a clean emptiness – it was a shredded and destroyed one. The fractures of his bone and the rips in his skin an all too real feeling. And he hated himself like he never had done before. He stood there for a long time. He could still feel her fingers on his skin, the way her false nails had gripped his shoulders, his back, his hair. He shuddered.

His entire being felt like it wasn’t working correctly; he couldn’t even cry. He could only stand in the kitchen, drunk and alone, thoughts of Ryan and the woman getting tangled in his mind, fuelled by and with the burning feeling of guilt.

Brendon didn’t see Ryan for the rest of the day – Ryan stuck to the spare bedroom, determined to not talk to Brendon. Ryan cried a lot, that day. Hidden in the room that didn’t really feel like home, Ryan wept. He couldn’t stop picturing Brendon with _her_ : the faceless girl with the red lipstick and painted nails, dress too tight and too short, heels making her taller and curvier. Her hands running all over Brendon – touching him in places that were meant for Ryan alone – Brendon’s mouth kissing her, tasting her, and losing his mind in the feel of her. Forgetting him.

Forgetting their promises.

He buried his face into the pillow and tried to hide from the world. Brendon, the one person that Ryan had thought he could trust utterly and completely, had betrayed him. Even the simple act of crying hurt so much that Ryan wanted to never have to breathe again.

Eventually, late at night, Brendon found his way to their bedroom – Ryan wasn’t there. Of course he wasn’t. He’d told Brendon that he wouldn’t be.

Brendon fell into the cold sheets, sober and hating it – already knowing that he wouldn’t be able to sleep. When he heard Ryan get up and go outside, the backdoor slamming behind him, too loud in the quiet night, his assumption solidified – Brendon would never sleep tonight, as long as Ryan was still burning bright.

*

Ryan was like a beacon, calling for Brendon, shining through the darkness of their back garden. Brendon was walking towards his light, his star, with hardly a conscious thought in him. Ryan’s back was to him, staring out into the night, and Brendon found himself standing next to him. Even if he could tear his eyes away from Ryan, he wouldn’t want to. He wasn’t even sure how to begin to apologise, and he knew that an apology just wouldn’t be enough. Not this time. Not after _this_.

“Hi, Brendon,” Ryan said suddenly, startling him. There was a moment in which Brendon was unsure how to talk.

“Hi, Ryan,” he breathed.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Ryan asked him, still staring away from him. It wasn’t accidental, either. He was intentionally looking away from Brendon.

“Not really,” Brendon admitted; he didn’t add that it was because Ryan wouldn’t stop shining in his mind.

They were quiet for a long time, and Brendon sat down next to Ryan, carefully. Ryan turned to look at him eventually, “Me either,” he said.

Brendon just nodded, at first, but because he’s a masochist at heart, he had to ask, “Why not?” already dreading the answer Ryan would give.

Ryan sighed and let his body fall back onto the grass, lying there and staring up at the sky he twisted his wedding back round and round his finger. With every twist he was pulled on Brendon’s heart. “I can’t stop thinking.” That wasn’t the answer Brendon had been expecting. It was almost as if Ryan was trying not to hurt Brendon – that was just ridiculous.

“About?” Brendon should learn when to stop talking.

“You. Me. Us. Everything.”

And there it was. It still wasn’t an admittance to what had happened – not really – but there it was, said out loud, the real problem. Brendon found that, now, he couldn’t look at Ryan. He seemed to have no in-between; he either couldn’t stop looking, or couldn’t bring himself to look. “That’s a long and difficult list for one man.”

Ryan’s eyes flashed in the darkness, “If I don’t think about it, no one else will.”

“What about me?” Brendon asked him, the guilt twisting in his stomach and driving him insane.

“Please…” Ryan sighed. He let his hands fall to his sides, onto the grass. “You’d do anything to not think about this, Bren.”

Fireflies danced in the air, hovering over the grass, and Ryan pushed himself into a sitting position, turning to face Brendon, legs crossed and face serious. Brendon’s eyes gazes gravely back at him, “I have good reason to not want to think about it, Ry.”

“No,” Ryan told him, “You’re just scared that this has all been a m-,”

“Don’t say it.”

Ryan stared at him, lips pressed into a fine line. “You wouldn’t have done… what you did if there wasn’t something wrong with _this._ ” Brendon’s eyes were filling with tears, he couldn’t bear it. He knew he was the cause of this. Overreacting to one little argument, throwing everything he had, everything that was good in the world, away because he was drunk and angry. Ryan shuffled closer to him, and wrapped an arm around him, “Hey,” he whispered, “These things happen.” For the most part it was an act – he was still angry at Brendon; of course he was. He had every right to be, but right then Brendon was crying and Ryan didn’t know what else to do but to take care of him.

“Not to us,” Brendon whimpered, “This wasn’t meant to happen to us.” Meaning that he wasn’t supposed to screw up, meaning they weren’t supposed to fall apart like this, because of him.

A tear slid from Brendon’s eye and Ryan gently brushed it away, “No more tears, Brendon; you wouldn’t want me to be crying over you.”

Brendon shrugged and sniffed pathetically, making Ryan laugh, a soft, delicate sound.

After a while, Brendon pulled himself together and shrugged Ryan’s arm off, “What do you want to do then?” He asked, his voice still shook, but less so.

Ryan sighed, “Maybe we should take a break.” The words hung in the air around them, floating like the fireflies, and Brendon wished that they were a physical thing so that he could swat at them and knock them out of the sky.

“Is that what you want?” It wasn’t what Brendon wanted, and his question was a nervous one – he knew that Ryan was going to tell him that yes, it was what he wanted, and Brendon also knew that hearing that would ruin him.

“It’s what I think is best,” Ryan replied, not quite answering the question.

Brendon disagreed; best would be staying together and working through this. But he was nodding. They’d been here before. Ryan was telling him the timing was wrong, that they were wrong, that it would be best for them to part, and Brendon was helpless to do anything but nod along, mutely.

As neither of them knew what to say next, a long, tense silence filled the space between them. They weren’t looking at each other, staring at the dark skies or their own hands.

All Brendon could hear was Ryan’s breathing. He zeroed in on it, making it the most important thing to him until he thought he would explode from the pain of it all. Brendon had messed up a lot of good things in his lifetime, most of the time it hadn’t been his fault, but this time it was his fault. He’d brought this on himself. The moment his eyes had landed on the woman, it had been over. Brendon’s heart rate was going too fast and he’d forgotten how to breathe, his lungs fit to burst.

“I’m going to bed,” Brendon said, suddenly, letting out the growing pressure inside of his skull with the words, then, looking at Ryan anxiously, he added, “You should join me.” He didn’t say ‘while you still can’ but it was implied.

Brendon got to his feet, not waiting for Ryan to move or respond, and he padded across the grass and pavestones, feet cold and his body heavy, but his heart colder and heavier together.

When Brendon got inside, he found his way to their bed without turning on any lights and he fell into it. Kicking off his shoes and pulling off most of his clothes he sank into the mattress and prayed that Ryan would come. If only for one more night.

A long time later, when he was sure that Ryan wasn’t ever coming, he felt Ryan’s warm body slip into bed and wrap around Brendon’s small frame – a small comfort in his rapidly crumbling world.

Brendon smiled, sadly, and moved backwards subtly, feeling Ryan’s arms tighten around him and remembering where he belonged, feeling like without Ryan he would be nothing. He didn’t tell Ryan that he loved him, that night. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel it was necessary; more that he didn’t want Ryan to react badly. Telling Ryan that he loved him right then would probably be a mistake. So he didn’t. He stayed silent, and he enjoyed the feel of Ryan’s arms around him, making the most of what little he had left.

When the morning came, Brendon wished that he had told Ryan that he loved him. If only so that he could have said it one more time. 


	5. Sentimental Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wasn’t sure if it was just the sky crying, or if he was too. He suspected it was the latter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With tears in my eyes I begged you to stay. You said, “Hey man, I love you, but no fucking way.”

Brendon wasn’t smiling when the morning came. Or rather, he was… until he realised he was alone in the bed.

There was a note on the side. In block letters, Ryan’s handwriting, the words were clear, and Brendon could read it without moving much.

IT’S JUST A BREAK.

And Ryan’s wedding ring was on top of it.

Brendon jumped out of bed immediately and his hand shot out to grab the note and ring as he ran from the room, shouting Ryan’s name.

Sprinting down the hallway, he carried on yelling until he heard, distantly, “I’m in here, Bren.” Ryan’s voice was quiet and if Brendon hadn’t been on red alert he suspected that he wouldn’t have heard it.

Brendon slowed to a walk and he arrived at the doorway of their spare room. Ryan’s back was to him, and he was quite blatantly packing his bags. “What are you doing?” Brendon asked, holding out the note and ring, and his voice shook, “Put your damn ring back on.”

Ryan turned to look at him, his expression blank. They stood staring at each other, and Brendon could feel anger bubbling inside of him. Irrational anger. Anger and fear. “This isn’t a divorce, Bren,” Ryan started.

Brendon interrupted him with an emotional yell, “THEN PUT THE RING ON!”

Ryan just stared at him, “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Brendon asked, a whisper, a plea. He knew why not. It was because of him - because of how he’d messed up. Badly.

Ryan’s answer didn’t explain anything, but it said all he needed to, “I need to do this, Brendon.”

“Put the ring on.” Brendon requested for a third time.

“No.” Ryan replied.

“Please…” Brendon was begging now, his voice wasn’t raised anymore. He couldn’t have Ryan walk away from him, he just couldn’t. “I’m- I’m nothing without you, Ryan.”

Ryan sighed, “Pass it here.”

Brendon didn’t smile but his shoulders relaxed. He tossed the ring across to Ryan, the note went too but it only made it part way before drifting down to the floor in-between them. The words were visible.

Brendon stared at his husband as he put the ring back onto his left hand and examined it. Ryan looked up, “I can’t keep this on, Brendon.”

“It’s the whole point of it,” Brendon told him. “You’re supposed to keep it on.” He held up his own left hand as he spoke, showing Ryan his own ring. “It was a promise- _is_ a promise. Thick or thin, near or far, remember?”

“Not a promise I can keep right now,” Ryan whispered. Ryan still hadn’t said that it was Brendon’s fault aloud, and if anything that made it worse. Brendon felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. He couldn’t do anything but stare as Ryan turned back to his belongings and carried on stuffing them into bags. Ryan picked up his bags and pushed past Brendon, on his way to their room to finish packing.

Brendon followed him; he’d always follow Ryan.

Standing in the doorway, watching Ryan gather up all traces of himself, Brendon realised that he couldn’t watch this. He couldn’t watch Ryan remove himself from his life. He turned away and headed to the front room, without another word, not knowing if Ryan even noticed him go or not.

Of course Ryan did.

*

Brendon was playing the guitar, singing loudly, as Ryan shoved item after item into his bags. He was crying, his lip trembling, his hands shaking. He tried to ignore Brendon, focusing on what he was packing, but his vision was blurry, giving him little to do but listen to Brendon.

_I still remember the good old days_

_Where you and me we used to hide away_

_Where the sun was shining or_

_The stars were blinding our eyes._

_Yeah you filled up my glass_

_With promises that could never last_

Ryan gritted his teeth at that, and fought to block out Brendon’s voice – but he only managed it for a few lines.

 

_We don’t, we don’t, need to talk about this now_

_Yeah, we’ve been down that road before_

Ryan leant his head against the edge of his bed, kneeling on the floor. He was doing the right thing. Brendon was just trying to make him feel guilty. Exhaling sharply he lifted his head and grabbed at more things and packing them messily. He zipped the bags shut and wrapped his still-shaking hands around the handles.

_Guess it’s over, yeah, we’re done_

The guitar dropped away as Ryan stepped out of his room, hands clutching his bag. All he could hear was Brendon’s voice. It was meant to be an honest, understanding song, one that said that it was time to move on in an open way, but Brendon was playing it bitterly. He sang it in a sarcastic manner, telling Ryan what he thought about this without saying it. Ryan wanted to say something to him, something horrid, something cruel. He wanted to tell Brendon to go fuck himself, or something to that effect, but there was a lump in his throat that wouldn’t allow it Instead, as he stopped by their front room, all he could manage to choke out was a whispered, “I’ll miss you.”

Brendon had stopped singing, was now just staring at him. He nodded.

Ryan dropped his bags to the floor and his right hand went to his left. Brendon looked down at the floor when he realised what Ryan was doing.

“I’ll leave this here,” Ryan said, voice weak. Brendon heard the metallic _thunk_ of metal on wood, but didn’t look up. At the sound of Ryan’s retreating steps, then, and only then, did his eyes find the doorway again, now empty, save for the small golden ring lying on the floor.

*

The first place Ryan went was to Spencer’s house, but he hadn’t anticipated that Jon would be there too and soon enough he had been sat down forcefully at the kitchen table while his two friends stared at him.

They didn’t say anything; there wasn’t much to say, and there was too much to say.

The phone rang. Ryan jumped at the shrill tone. Spencer and Jon exchanged a glance, before Spencer got up to answer.

Ryan didn’t look at him, but he listened intently to what Spencer said. He had to know if it was _him._

It was.

“Oh, hey Brendon. Yeah, he’s here. No. I don’t know. Brendon-. Maybe. I’ll ask him. Okay. I’ll call round later, okay? I’m sorry. Okay. Bye, Brendon.” Spencer put the phone back its stand and looked at Ryan, leaning against the wall. “Brendon wants to know what your plans are about the band.”

Ryan’s head dropped down, and he couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up and out of him, “The band,” he repeated, “He wants to know about _the band._ ”

“What else is he supposed to do?” Jon asked, harshly.

Ryan just shook his head, chuckling. Then he turned to Spencer, “Tell him when you see him that I don’t know. Tell him it’s up to you guys.”

Spencer frowned at him, “If you’re sure…”

“It’s up to him,” Ryan clarified. Then he stood up, “I’ve gotta go; coming here was a mistake.”

“Ryan,” Jon started, “If you need somewhere to stay-.”

Ryan exhaled, “Yeah that would be… Yeah.”

Jon nodded, sympathetically, “The thing about being the one to walk is that they always get the house.”

Ryan smiled, softly, as though he wasn’t sure he was allowed to, “Thanks.” And then, “I mean, thanks for understanding. And not judging me.”

Jon shrugged, “I don’t know what happened; so I’ll save my judgement till I do.”

Ryan nodded, “Fair enough.” He didn’t plan on telling them what had happened.

Spencer just pursed his lips, and Ryan pretended that he didn’t see his friend’s disapproval.

Spencer not-so-subtly patted Jon on the back as he ushered Ryan out the door; Jon gave Spencer a half-hearted smile in return.

On the car ride to Jon’s house, Ryan stared at the place strip of skin where his fourth finger met his knuckle. He tried to imagine how it would look without the past two years of marriage and found that he couldn’t. He wasn’t sure what that meant.

*

It had been two weeks since Ryan had walked out on Brendon. They hadn’t seen each other at all. It was probably the longest they’d been without seeing each other in, well, at least four years. Brendon had spent most of the time lying in bed – the night Ryan left Brendon had lay in tears in bed all night, hand tightly holding onto Ryan’s ring, alone without Ryan by his side.

He no longer had tears left to cry. He was too tired. Barely sleeping and not eating much had made him weak.

That was how Jon found him.

Jon grabbed Brendon by his shirt – lucky that he was wearing one – and dragged him through the house. Being shoved into the car, Brendon distantly wondered if he was being kidnapped before it clicked that (a) he knew Jon and (b) he didn’t care.

They pulled up outside Jon’s house and Brendon considered asking what they were doing. He didn’t though, and allowed himself to be led into the house, from the front door to the living room where, to his horror and shock, Ryan waited.

“No.” Ryan spoke first, flatly. Making as though to leave, he was stopped by Spencer.

“You’re not leaving,” Spencer told him with finality.

“Oh, yes, I am.” Ryan replied putting one hand on Spencer, as though to shove him, but Spencer glared at him and Ryan backed down. “Fine,” he said, heavily, “But I’m not talking to _him_.”

Brendon was just standing there, watching as Ryan tried to do anything but talk to him.

“We’re not asking you to talk,” Jon said, and he held up his guitar.

Brendon knew where this was going, and so did Ryan. Ryan immediately started to protest, “I’m not going to _sing_ about my Goddamn feelings.” He spat.

He must have seen the pain on Brendon’s face because his expressions seemed to soften slightly when he glanced in Brendon’s direction. Ryan’s right hand jumped to the place where his wedding ring should have been, and Brendon’s hand moved to the pocket where the ring now was. Ryan noticed and bit his lip, looking away.

“Yes,” Jon told him, “You are.” And then he held up two sheets of paper, clearly identical. “You know the song you sang at your wedding? This is by the same duo.”

Ryan’s face was hard; Brendon’s was on the verge of breaking down.

They both took the sheets.

Scanning their eyes over the lyrics, they glanced up at each other briefly and their expressions were mirrored – Jon had chosen well. Brendon wasn’t sure he’d make it through the song.

Spencer pulled up two chairs and made them sit, facing each other, while him and Jon moved away a bit. Jon began to play.

Brendon went first:

_You only know what I want you to_

Ryan thought that tears were already sliding down his face, but he couldn’t be sure.

_I know everything you don’t want me to_

He sang back to Brendon and his voice shook, in a way that it never did unless he was emotional, and Brendon knew that. His eyes jumped up to look at Ryan. Big mistake. It was a wonder he could sing the next line.

If the lyrics had been more true to them, Brendon would have sworn that they had written them themselves. When their voices joined together to sing the chorus, they sounded sad. Melancholy. Damaged. Truthful.

_Oh, I don’t love you_

_But I always will_

_I always will_

Brendon winced when his eyes scanned his next line, and he looked up at Ryan when he sang it:

_Your hands can heal; your hands can bruise_

Ryan, however, couldn’t maintain eye contact at his line:

_I don’t have a choice, but I still choose you_

Brendon nodded, understanding, and when they sang the chorus again Brendon stared at his sheet.

The song started to trail off, until they were just repeating one line, over and over.

_I always will…_

Brendon could feel Ryan’s eyes on him again, and he looked up.

They finished the song watching each other. Looking, but not really seeing, and Brendon knew he was crying – Ryan was too.

As soon as the music stopped Ryan jumped to his feet, dropping the paper and starting for the door, but he stopped at the sound of Brendon’s voice, calling him.

He turned back. “It’s true, Ry,” Brendon was saying, “I always will.”

Ryan didn’t have anything to say, so he said, “I know,” and left. Distantly, he heard Jon say that it went better than he expected and Ryan wondered how badly he’d expected it to go.

Brendon couldn’t stay in that room for a moment longer, mostly because he couldn’t bear to be near Jon and Spencer right then. He found himself standing in the rain outside Jon’s house, staring up at the dark sky.

Hours later, he was sat on the street corner, as the skies poured down on him, soaking him to the bone. He was staring at the ring that he held in his numb hand. Ryan’s ring.

He wasn’t sure if it was just the sky crying, or if he was too. He suspected it was the latter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trade Mistakes was the perfect song for this chapter, and honestly for this entire fic (because I’ve written a lot of it so far). I’ll stay awake till I trade my mistakes, or they fade away.   
> Also, hey we’re back to having song lyrics in chapters, that didn’t happen for a little while because it just never fit!


	6. Get Me Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He let the sound of Brendon’s voice become the only thing in the world.

Ryan left the band a matter of days later. They didn’t announce it to the fans, not yet. That was more Brendon’s decision than a group one – he was finding it hard to accept that Ryan really had gone, and telling the public was too final and concrete for him. Even so, the fans knew something was up – Brendon swore that they had some kind of sixth sense. Also, it hadn’t helped that someone had discovered that Ryan was staying at a motel (staying with Jon had proven too much for him to handle). Brendon had tried to convince the fans that it was purely for work-related reasons. Not that they believed him. So he’d turned off his phone.  

That didn’t leave him with much to do but stare at the wall, or the ceiling, or the floor, or the covers on his bed.

He couldn’t believe that Ryan was gone.

There was emptiness in the house that Brendon had never experienced before.

Even before he and Ryan married, he’d never lived alone. First there was his family, then friends, then the band, then Ryan, and now he was alone. It was weird to turn around and not hear someone else in the room, it was weird to not have the constant bustle of movement in some form or other, and it was weird to sleep in an empty bed, Ryan’s familiar weight and warmth gone.

As days trickled by, Brendon did everything he could to avoid Spencer and Jon; he didn’t think he’d survive the piteous way they would look at him, or the intentional gentleness in their voices when they would speak to him.

But his fingers still itched to call Ryan; his feet tapped on the floor when he sat still. The need to hear Ryan’s voice, or to see Ryan’s face, was almost unbearable. It was like someone was sitting in his mind saying _Ryan Ryan Ryan Ryan Ryan_ over and over and over. Ryan was a constant backing track to Brendon’s every thought.

However, even through all that, the hardest thing to live with was the guilt. It was hot and heavy in Brendon’s stomach all day and every day. Sleeping was hard because every time he closed his eyes he either felt Ryan’s touch, or _her_ touch.

It was cold where Brendon sat; the air around him chilled him to the core. Sitting on the backdoor step, Brendon was staring at his knees, thinking, as always, about Ryan. Thoughts swimming, mind whirling, it took him a long time to realise that the phone was ringing.  Standing up, Brendon made his way into the living room where the phone was.

Brendon hadn’t called Ryan. He hadn’t tried to contact him. He knew how this worked – unless Ryan made the first move, there was no contact allowed.

Brendon hadn’t expected Ryan to call. Truth be told, there was a part of him that thought he’d never hear from Ryan ever again. He thanked God that he had been wrong about that.

Picking up the phone, Brendon had no idea that he was about to hear Ryan’s voice for the first time in a week, “Yeah, this is Brendon,” he told the caller in a monotonous voice.

There was a long silence, then, “Hi, Brendon,” in a quiet reply.

Brendon breathed in sharply, and when he exhaled it was shaky and scared, “Ry?”

Brendon could hear Ryan breathing on the other end of the line. Ryan answered, “Yeah, Bren, it’s me.”

“I miss you so much,” Brendon blurted out in a rush, and then he clapped a hand over his mouth, realising that he shouldn’t have said that.

Ryan didn’t answer for a moment, then he laughed softly, “Me too,” he admitted.

Brendon moved to sit down on the sofa, curling up and pulling his knees up to his chest, smiling despite everything at the fact that he could hear Ryan. “I didn’t expect you to call,” he said.

“I didn’t expect to call,” Ryan told him. They fell silent for a second, listening to each other’s breathing, and then Ryan sighed, “I miss you.” And then he carried on talking, too fast, “And I know that’s stupid and I shouldn’t miss you, because I’m still so angry, and I’m the one who left, but oh, my God, _I miss you_.”

Brendon nodded, throat and mouth dry, unable to speak, but then he remembered that Ryan couldn’t see him, “Yeah,” he whispered, “I know.” He laughed slightly, “I miss you, too.”

“I think we’ve said that four times now,” Ryan chuckled.

“Well, at least we know where we stand,” Brendon replied, dryly. He rubbed his hand up and down his leg, pressing the phone against his ear hard, craving just to hear the slightest sound from Ryan.

“Do we? Know where we stand?” Ryan asked.

“I guess not,” Brendon allowed.

Ryan’s fingers tapped on his leg. He was sitting on the uncomfortable motel bed, staring at his knees. “When did we stop living a musical, Bren?”

Resting his chin on his knees, Brendon smiled slightly, “I’m not sure we did.”

“Sing to me?” Ryan asked, hesitantly.

Brendon smiled, eyes lifting up as he thought about what he could sing, “Well, there’s a song I’ve not been able to get out of my head recently.”

“Sing it to me,” Ryan suggested, trying to keep the smile from his voice.

Brendon couldn’t stop the grin that came to his face, “Alright, hang on,” he said to Ryan before pulling the phone from his ear and pressing speaker phone, “I’m putting you on speaker, just wait while I get my guitar.”

“Alright,” Ryan whispered.

Brendon got to his feet, quickly, leaving the phone on the sofa. He moved through the house, towards the bedroom where his guitar was leaning against the bed, where he’d left it. It was there because he’d played a lot over the past week. Mainly songs that he connected with Ryan.

His breathing was heavy when he got back to the living room and he stopped for a moment, looking at the phone. Then he sighed. Ryan must have heard him, but he hadn’t said anything. Picking up the phone, Brendon moved it so that it sat on the small coffee table, facing him.

Strumming the guitar once as a test he asked Ryan, “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, I hear you,” Ryan confirmed, and Brendon smiled, eyes lit up, and he began to play.

His fingers plucked at the guitar, running across the strings, sound filling the room.

_When all of your flaws and all of my flaws_

_Are laid out one by one_

_A wonderful part of the mess that we made_

_We pick ourselves undone_

He sang, facing the phone, pretending that Ryan was sat in front of him, and not miles away in a crappy motel room.

_There's a hole in my soul_

_I can't fill it, I can't fill it_

_There's a hole in my soul_

_Can you fill it? Can you fill it?_

Ryan leant back against the wall, closing his eyes and listening to Brendon’s voice, wishing he could be with Brendon all the while still knowing that there was a reason he was staying away. It was a pain in Ryan’s chest. The betrayal still hurt, so much. He still cried at night, lying there without Brendon. Even with all that, however, he yearned for Brendon. He just wanted to hug him, to hold him close, to be able to feel Brendon’s body pressed against his own, Brendon’s breath hot on his neck.

_You have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve_

_And I have always buried them deep beneath the ground_

_Dig them up; let's finish what we've started_

_Dig them up, so nothing's left unturned_

The problem was that Ryan still loved Brendon, more than he’d loved any other person in his whole life. He’d brought down every wall he’d ever built, solely to love Brendon, solely to let Brendon in.

As Ryan listened to Brendon’s voice, he thought about their relationship, their past, and their memories. By the time Brendon was finished, Ryan was crying.

Brendon fell silent, and he could hear Ryan crying. Since neither of them spoke, he began to play again, filling the gap that their words should have filled.

_And when I see you_

_I really see you upside down_

_But my brain knows better_

_It picks you up and turns you around_

Ryan folded himself in smaller, closing his eyes tighter, letting the sound of Brendon’s voice become the only thing in the world. At any rate, it was the only thing that mattered.

_If you feel discouraged_

_That there's a lack of colour here_

_Please don't worry lover_

Ryan’s tears slid down his face fast, and his face was scrunched up with the pain of it all.

_I'm reaching for the phone_

_To call at 7:03 and_

_On your machine I slur a plea for you to come home_

_But I know it's too late_

_I should have given you a reason to stay_

Ryan let out a sound that was close to a laugh. A reason to stay. Brendon didn’t need to give him one; Brendon _was_ one. Unfortunately, Brendon was also a reason to leave.

Ryan pushed thought from his mind, until it was just Brendon’s name and Brendon’s voice. Though, that was what his thoughts were most of the time anyway.

_This is fact not fiction_

_For the first time in years_

Brendon’s voice faded, again, and this time Ryan spoke immediately, “Oh, God, I love you, and I don’t want to, but I do.” He was sobbing and everything hurt. It all hurt.

Brendon didn’t answer. Then he did, “That’s okay.”

Ryan whined, “No, it’s not; I miss you so much.”

Brendon smiled, a pained and twisted smile, and he realised he was crying too, “I miss you too.” Then he laughed softly, “That’s six.”

Ryan laughed too, sounding strangled with his sobs.

“Don’t worry, Ryan,” Brendon told him, “We’re just sorting out our beautiful mess.”

“It doesn’t seem very beautiful to me,” Ryan replied.

“Yeah,” Brendon agreed, “Me either.”

“I should go,” Ryan said, a moment later, “I shouldn’t really have called you.”

“Can’t stay away, huh?” Brendon asked, almost teasing him, but realising that Ryan’s words hurt.

“I’m trying,” Ryan whispered, afraid.

Brendon couldn’t think of what to reply to that, and he nodded, the lump in his throat preventing him from saying anything anyway. Ryan hung up. The silence that followed pounded at Brendon’s head, retracting from every thought.

Brendon sat on the sofa for a long time, guitar left on the floor, phone on the table, waiting, irrationally, for Ryan’s call. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wake up, I'm afraid; somebody else might take my place.


	7. Taking Me Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I hate myself. I hate myself so fucking much for what I did."

“It’s good to hear your voice again,” Ryan admitted, “I just wish I didn’t need to hear it.”

“What do you mean?” Brendon asked, frowning.

Ryan shook his head and rubbed at his face, “I wish I could let you go, is what I’m saying.”

“Do you want to? Really?”

Ryan laughed, delicately, “I know that I should.” Then he paused, “You hurt me, Brendon, and cheating is– well, I think cheating’s the worst. I’ve had friends who’ve been cheated on and I always tell them to leave their partner.”

Ryan had called Brendon again, eleven pm, sad, alone, uncomfortable, needing to hear Brendon’s voice. He’d spent all day trying not to call but in the end he couldn’t resist.

“Do you think you could ever forgive me?” Brendon asked, and he knew he was asking for the moon with that.

“I don’t know,” was Ryan’s simple reply. “Are you gonna sing to me again?”

“I’ll always sing to you, if that’s what you want,” Brendon replied. Then he chuckled slightly, “‘I will sing to you every day, if it will take away the pain.’”

“Oh, so we’re quoting Fall Out Boy, now, are we?” Ryan laughed.

Brendon laughed, before becoming serious, “ _Do_ you want me to sing to you?”

“Please…” Ryan replied.

“I can do that,” Brendon said. Following the same steps he took the previous night to play for Ryan, Brendon sat with his guitar and began to play. It was comforting to Ryan, hearing Brendon’s voice. Brendon was always so open when he sang, so truthful and honest. A lot of the time, it cut Ryan, sharp like a blade, leaving him wounded, but at the same time it was often what Ryan needed. If anything, it showed how much Brendon loved him.

_What day is it? And in what month?_

_This clock never seemed so alive_

_I can't keep up and I can't back down_

_I've been losing so much time_

That was something that Ryan could identify with. Since he’d left Brendon, it felt like everything was slipping away, leaving him confused and muddled.

_And it's you and me and all of the people_

_And I don't know why I can't keep my eyes off of you_

Ryan smiled down the phone, picturing how Brendon might look right that moment in his mind. He created a mental image of the other man, white short-sleeved shirt, blue jeans with the hems rolled up slightly, hair scruffy because he hadn’t bothered to sort it out when he woke up, bare feet, fingers strumming the guitar strings, a small smile flitting across his face as he played. It wasn’t far from the truth, really, not that Ryan knew that.

_All of the things that I want to say just aren't coming out right_

_I'm tripping on words_

_You got my head spinning_

_I don't know where to go from here_

“Stop,” Ryan blurted out, accidentally. He suddenly felt ill and his head was whirling, “Brendon, stop.” Brendon had stopped immediately, Ryan was just saying it again because that was all he could think to say.

“Ry?” Brendon asked, sounding so concerned, and Ryan felt overwhelmed. “Ryan, what’s happening?”

Ryan couldn’t breathe. He’d fallen apart so fast that _he_ wasn’t even sure what had happened, “I don’t- I can’t breathe- I miss-,” he let out a sob. Dropping the phone, he pressed the heel of the palms of his hands into his eyes and tried to breathe in and out through his nose slowly. Distantly he could hear Brendon calling his name on the other end of the phone. _Ryan, Ry, are you there, what’s wrong, Ryan, hey, talk to me, are you okay._

It took ten minutes for Ryan to be able to breathe again. His face was wet with his tears and his chest hurt, but he could breathe again. His arms felt weird, heavy and tingly, and he shook them out, stretching his legs too and breathing out heavily to get rid of everything. Then he picked up the phone gingerly. “Brendon?” he whispered, hoarsely, “You still here?”

“I was wondering the same about you,” Brendon’s reply was said like a joke but Ryan could hear the relief in his voice.

“I-,” he stopped and took a deep breath, “No, I’ve gotta go, I need space, don’t call me again.”

He disconnected the call abruptly, and he wasn’t sure how he’d made that decision so fast. He stared at the phone in his hand, and realised that he’d just cut off all ties with Brendon, the man who was legally still his husband.

In his own home, Brendon was also staring at the phone. Ryan had just told him to leave him alone. Ryan had just said his last goodbye. Ryan was gone.

He breathed out heavily and tried not to cry.

If he expected to get a break from the pain, he was mistaken.

The doorbell rang. Not a second later, a banging took up on his front door, accompanied by the sound of Jon yelling his name. “Brendon, open the damn door!”

He sounded furious, beyond angry, and Brendon had never heard him like this. Hesitantly he got to his feet.

When he opened the door it was dark outside, it being the middle of the night and all, but he could see his two friends standing there by the light from his house. Jon’s expression was that of uncontrolled rage, and Spencer looked apprehensive. “How _dare_ you?” Jon demanded, thunderously.

Brendon blinked, “What?” he asked, caught completely off guard.

“You _cheated_ on _Ryan_!” Jon shouted. “I took you for a lot of things, Urie, but I never thought you’d be a cheat.”

Brendon stepped backwards, his hands shaking, jaw slackening, eyes wide, “I- I-,” he couldn’t speak. Spencer was standing a little behind Jon, looking like he wanted to intervene but unsure if he should.

“What the Hell do you have to say for yourself?” Jon demanded. Spencer bit his lip.

Brendon shook his head forcefully, “Shut up!” He yelled, “You- I- You _know_ I love Ryan,” he ran his hands through his hair, “You know he’s the only one I’ve ever wanted.” He was dangerously close to breaking down, first Ryan told him to never call again, now Jon was attacking him about his mistakes.

Jon scoffed, “You’ve sure got a funny way of showing it,” he spat.

“Jon,” Spencer warned, putting his hand on Jon’s shoulder. Jon shook him off, tossing a glare in his direction.

Brendon shook his head again, and his voice shook, “It was always Ryan, I love Ryan, I didn’t _mean_ to-,”

“Put your dick inside another person?” Jon interrupted, sarcastically. Brendon flinched. “Cause that’s not something you do _accidentally,_ Brendon.”

Brendon swallowed. He shut his eyes. His hand moved to his pocket and slipped inside. He pulled out Ryan’s ring and held it out to Jon. He opened his eyes and smiled brokenly at his friend, “I don’t go anywhere without this, it kills me every time I remember that I have it in my pocket, but I can’t leave it behind. I spend every waking moment praying that Ryan will knock on my door, and every sleeping moment dreaming that when I wake up he’ll be next to me again.” Spencer was looking at him as though he were about to cry. Jon’s expression was still angry and unforgiving. “I hate myself. I hate myself so fucking much for what I did. I wish I’d never done it. But there’s nothing I can do about it now except try to make it up to Ryan. Which I never can.”

“I don’t care that you _regret_ it, Brendon; of _course_ you regret it, you _asshole_ ,” Jon told him harshly, “I _care_ about the fact that you would _do it in the first place_. How could you possibly do this to _Ryan_? Nothing you say is an excuse!”

Brendon stayed silent, knowing that he was right.

“I’ve always said that people who cheat are the absolute lowest of the low,” Jon said, “I guess I was right.”

“Jon!” Spencer exclaimed, but Jon just pushed him out the way as he turned round to stalk away from the house, but then he turned back to fix Brendon with a stare, “Y’know, I think Ryan had the right idea about leaving this band.” And then he walked back to his car.

Brendon felt a tear slide down his face and he heard Spencer inhale sharply at Jon’s words.  Spencer turned to look at Brendon and Brendon let out a sound of complete resignation, “Go on, tell me what utter scum I am,” he said.

Spencer sighed, “Oh, Brendon.”

“No,” Brendon said, “I don’t deserve your sympathy, or your kindness.” He wiped roughly at his face, pushing away the tears that had dared to fall from his eyes.

Spencer’s eyes were swimming with tears too, “Brendon, I’m not saying that what you did wasn’t awful,” he started.

“Hey, Spencer!” Jon interrupted, too far away to hear them but close enough that he could see them, “Are you coming or staying here with him?”

“Just give me a minute, Jon!” Spencer yelled back, angrily. Then he turned back to Brendon, “What you did was wrong, Brendon, you shouldn’t have let yourself get that angry, and it _was_ your fault. But it was partly Ryan’s fault too. And don’t for a second think that I’m going to stop being your friend because you made a drunken and angry mistake. But Jon’s right, I think we all need a little space from each other. Just for a while.”

Brendon nodded, sadly.

Spencer gently stroked Brendon’s cheek, “Hey, it’s gonna be okay.”

Brendon pulled from Spencer’s touch, hating the familiarity of the comfort.

Spencer’s eyes dimmed slightly and he nodded, “We’ll work this out,” he promised.

Jon yelled across to Spencer again and, with a last vague term of encouragement to Brendon, Spencer hurried away.

Brendon stood in the doorway of his house, alone, really alone. He felt cold. All of his friends had abandoned him. Eventually he shut the door.

Trailing from the hallway back to his seat on the sofa, he’d never felt so alone. He’d always thought he’d have Ryan, and Jon, and Spencer. Right then he had none of them. He flopped down on the sofa, ready to just give up and lie there forever and ever. Something was digging into the palm of his hand. He looked down at his hand and opened it slowly. Ryan’s ring. Of course. What else?

He stared at it. The gold band reflected the light from the window making it shine, but it was slightly scuffed from two years of wear – a little damaged but still beautiful. It reminded him of his and Ryan’s relationship, to be perfectly honest.

As he continued to stare at the ring his mind drifted back, thinking of all the times that had led to knowing he loved Ryan, and all the times after that.

Just a kid in high-school, talking to Ryan, in awe of his talent – well, his talent and the fact that he looked really good in skinny jeans and too much eyeliner.

On tour, sitting in the van with Ryan, playing video games and talking till stupid-AM.

Those moments on stage, when an almost electric wave would pass between them as they caught each other’s gaze.

That first kiss: drunken and messy, making their worlds flip and their lives change.

All the kisses after that; all the roses; all the songs; all the ‘I love you’s; all the fights.

All the reasons why Brendon wasn’t ready to let Ryan go yet.

He stared at the ring.

He couldn’t let Ryan go. Not after all that they had been through. Not after the promises he had made to always love him.

He got to his feet.

He had to fix this. He just had to. He couldn’t let Ryan go.

Grabbing the phone off the side, he dialled Spencer’s number, “Spencer, I’m sorry, do you know where Ryan’s staying?”

He barely stopped to grab his guitar before he ran from the house, sprinting down the road for all it was worth.

He couldn’t let Ryan go.


	8. Only For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was on his knees, literally and figuratively, and he was begging for his life.

Brendon collapsed to his knees, outside Ryan’s door. Breathing hard, heart pounding, he rested his head against the door. He took a deep breath. The guitar was slung over his back. Sitting back, kneeling in front of the door, he took another deep breath. Then, he knocked on the door. He heard Ryan get up.

The door opened. Brendon watched as Ryan’s sleepy eyes widened in shock, staring down at Brendon where he knelt. Ryan stumbled backwards a few steps, hand clutching at the side of the door as though he were about to slam it shut. He didn’t, however, “Brendon, what are you doing here it’s two am,” he said incredulously, blinking forcefully as though to check he really were awake.

He pulled the guitar round and, still breathing way too heavily, strummed it. He looked up at Ryan, gauging his reaction. Ryan simply looked like he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or not, so Brendon continued.

_Now I know I messed up bad_

_You were the best I ever had_

_I let you down in the worst way_

_It hurts me every single day_

Ryan stared at him with wide eyes, lips parted in shock. Brendon kept singing softly; mostly vocals with little instrumental.

_Now I'm here to say I'm sorry_

_And ask for a second chance_

_Cause when it all comes down to the end_

_I could sure use a friend_

Ryan closed his mouth, shaking his head and licking his lips, his eyes squeezed shut for a second before fixing back on Brendon with a pained expression and a soft exhale. He looked like he wanted to say something but Brendon wouldn’t allow that – mostly for fear that Ryan would tell him to leave.

_You and I were living like a love song_

_I feel so bad, I feel so bad that you're gone_

Brendon needed Ryan to understand and he needed Ryan to forgive him.

_We fell in love for a reason_

_Now you're leaving_

_And I just want you back_

Ryan gulped visibly and let out a shaky breath, “Oh, Brendon,” he whispered.

_I can't believe that I threw away all our dreams_

Brendon sang the last lines, forgetting to play the guitar, just his voice echoing in the silence of the night.

_You were the best I ever had_

And suddenly Brendon was talking too fast, saying everything he wished he had said before: "I was drunk and mad at you but that isn't an excuse. I wish like Hell that I'd never done what I did, you are the only person that I need and I betrayed you in the worst fucking way and I'm so sorry. I could lose anyone, _anyone_ , but not you, oh God, not _you_." He took a deep breath. "If you never wanted to see me again, I'd understand. Really, I would, Ry. But I don't want that to happen, I really don't. I love you, Ry. I love you."

Ryan just continued to stare at him, his jaw slack, eyes wide.

Brendon blundered on, “It all happened so fast, the fight, what I did, the next fight, it all happened so quickly. It was like, before I’d even realised what was happening, it was over. And then all I was left with was the knowledge that it was all my fault. You were gone, and I didn’t know how to deal with that and all I know is that I screwed up and that I love you.”

He was on his knees, literally and figuratively, and he was begging for his life.

Ryan was shaking his head, eyes filling with tears, “Brendon,” he whispered, “I-,”

Brendon almost let out a sob, “Just tell me you love me, and it’ll be alright.”

Ryan stepped towards him, eyes fixed on him, and he collapsed to his knees, pulling Brendon in and holding him close. His body was shaking, as he held Brendon for the first time in a long time.

Brendon was crying, clinging onto Ryan with all that he had, arms holding him there with no plan to ever let go. “Oh my God,” Brendon sobbed, “I love you so much, and I’m so sorry, I’ve missed you so much.” He was saying pretty much every clichéd sentiment that came to mind but he meant every damn one of them.

Ryan was nodding, gripping Brendon with as much fierce resolution as Brendon was him, but he wasn’t saying ‘I love you’. Ryan ran his hands down Brendon’s back, rubbing comforting circles and letting Brendon’s tears soak his shirt. Ryan was making shushing noises, murmuring words of comfort to Brendon. The breath in Brendon’s throat hitched as he sobbed. “Give me one more chance,” Brendon cried, “Let me show you that I love you, please, give me another chance.”

“Shush, baby, shush,” Ryan hushed him, pressing his lips to the skin above the neckline of Brendon’s t-shirt, “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

“You’re my best friend and I love you so much and I can’t lose you,” Every word was a confession that Ryan already knew and Ryan let his eyes slide shut, kneeling on the floor both in and out of his motel room and he held Brendon tightly.

“C’mon,” Ryan whispered after a while, “Up you get.” He coaxed Brendon to his feet, gently, and pulled him inside the room, keeping their eyes locked and hoping that Brendon could pull himself together. “Sit here,” he told Brendon, pushing him onto the bed before moving over to the tiny kitchenette. Brendon pulled his guitar from around his neck and leant it against the wall carefully. Ryan set about making two mugs of coffee, listening to Brendon’s small hiccoughing sobs.

A little later he pushed the mug into Brendon’s hands, telling him it was decaf, and sat down next to him, “Wanna tell me what happened?” He questioned lightly.

Brendon sniffed and took a sip of the piping hot coffee, and then in a quiet voice, “Jon yelled at me.”

“What?” Ryan was genuinely surprised. That just wasn’t like Jon to do, unless of course-

“He- He knows- What I did-,” Brendon broke off and took another sip of the coffee as an excuse.

“Oh,” Ryan whispered, nodding in understanding, because there it was. It was Ryan’s fault that Jon knew, and so it was Ryan’s fault that Jon had yelled at Brendon. At least, that was how Ryan saw it, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know he’d-,” Ryan tried to apologise in a rush.

“God, no!” Brendon exclaimed, “I’m not blaming you,” his eyes were wide in his need to make Ryan understand, “I’m not blaming Jon, either, or Spencer. I mean, I deserved it, it’s my fault. That’s not really why I’m here…” he trailed off again. He seemed to be having a hard time making the words form. All the things he wanted to say just weren’t coming out right.

“Why are you here then?” Ryan prompted, trying to help Brendon out a little.

Brendon paused for a long while as he thought on it. Then he realised what he was trying to say and, still staring at his coffee, he spoke with quiet determination, unknowing of how Ryan would take it: “Because I realised that I’m not ready to give up on you. On us.”

Ryan couldn’t help but smile; the corners of his mouth turned upwards slightly, “Who said we were giving up?”

Brendon’s eyes found him, lifting from the mug for the first time, “Uh, well, I kind of thought _you_ did. When you told me to not call.”

Ryan took his mug off him and placed both of their drinks on the bedside table before taking hold of Brendon’s hands and looking at him seriously, “I needed a break,” he told him, “But I never said I was giving up.”

Brendon frowned in confusion, “I don’t understand,” he whispered.

Ryan laughed, softly, and it was tinged with regret, “You never do,” he said, and then he pressed a tender kiss to Brendon’s lips.

It was so unexpected, so out of the blue, that it took Brendon a moment to realise what was happening, and by the time he did, Ryan had already pulled away. Brendon followed automatically as Ryan moved away, his lips parted and his eyes fluttering closed. Ryan chuckled, blushing, and looked down at his knees. Brendon realised his mistake and pulled back abruptly, “Sorry,” he muttered. He swallowed the lump that was threatening to rise in his throat.

“’S’okay,” Ryan replied, weakly. His eyes flickered up to meet Brendon’s tentatively, and there was an almost bashfulness about him. They were both acting like blushing brides – a weird trait for two men with the sexual history that they had. But then, “Look, Bren,” Ryan started, and Brendon immediately decided that any sentence that started like that could not possibly end well. “I’ve not forgiven you for what you did, not yet,” – Oh, look, Brendon was right – “You really hurt me, and I’m not sure I can trust you properly yet,” and then he took a deep breath, “But I know you love me, and I want you to know that I love you too. Always will, okay? So as long as we’re careful, I’m here when you need me.”

Ryan was being very delicate as he spoke, not wanting to give Brendon the idea that they could just get back together, easy as pie, but also wanted to make sure that Brendon knew that Ryan was still his friend and still cared for him.

Brendon nodded in a resigned manner, “As long as we’re careful…” he repeated.

And Ryan didn’t smile as he said, “No promises.” And _God,_ wasn’t that a familiar statement.

Brendon pinched his lips together, watching Ryan with wide eyes. Then he turned to pick up his coffee, taking a large gulp, if only to give his hands and mouth something to do that wasn’t ‘touch Ryan’. Ryan’s eyes followed his movements. Brendon swallowed another large gulp of coffee and Ryan tried not to let his eyes get fixated on the bob in Brendon’s throat as he did that.

Ryan yawned widely, the time of night catching up to him all of a sudden. Brendon blinked, suddenly registering what time it was, “Oh, God, I’m sorry, I didn’t think-.”

Ryan cut him off, pressing the palm of his hand to Brendon’s mouth, “Shut up.” Then he took the coffee off Brendon, again, and pushed Brendon down onto the bed. Ryan crawled closer and curled up so that Brendon’s back was pressed against his chest, but Brendon rolled over with a, “No way,” and rolled Ryan over too so that he could wrap his arms around Ryan, holding him close with a smile, and a warmth spread throughout his body, starting from his stomach as he breathed in the smell of Ryan, coffee being the most prominent, but also the smell of his shampoo, and his deodorant, and the detergent that the motel must use.

Ryan smiled and let Brendon take control of the moment. He relaxed into Brendon’s touch, feeling safe and secure and sleepy. Brendon’s face was pressed into his neck, lips tracing along the curve of it, searching the soft skin. Ryan shivered and pulled Brendon’s arms closer around him. “Are you cold?” Brendon asked.

Ryan shrugged, “A little,” he lied, not wanting to admit that the shiver had been caused by Brendon’s lips, and not the temperature.

Brendon sat up, pulling Ryan up with him, and began taking off his shoes, tossing them onto the floor haphazardly, before he dragged the covers over them both. Ryan thought about protesting, feeling that maybe it was too much, but then he decided that this might be his last chance to lie in Brendon’s arms for a long time so he might as well do it properly. He knew that there was something distinctly wrong with this scenario but he also knew that Brendon’s arms were strong and caring, and that he was warm and comfortable lying there.

His heart rate slowed to a steady beat, his breathing evening out and falling in time with Brendon’s and he let his head nestle back into Brendon’s hair.

As the time drifted by, pleasantly, neither of them fell asleep – more they lay there, enjoying the feel of each other’s bodies against their own and the gentle humming noise of the air conditioning and the occasional quiet movement out on the streets.

Ryan was curled up in Brendon’s arms, comforting Brendon with the simple act of being _there_ and he was singing softly, under his breath but loud enough that Brendon could hear him. He sang the chorus to a song a lot softer than it was written to be, a vocally acoustic version, letting himself have this moment, all the while knowing that he had to tell Brendon to leave eventually.

_I’m gonna break down these walls I built around myself_

_I wanna fall so in love, with you, and no one else_

_Could ever mean half as much, to me as you do now_

_Together we’ll move on, just don’t turn around_

_Let these walls break down_

So maybe it was a mistake to sing those words to Brendon, maybe it was a mistake to let himself sleep in Brendon’s arms, and maybe it was a mistake to let them both think that everything would be fine, but right then? Ryan didn’t care. Brendon was his best friend and the first man he’d ever loved, and he needed him. So he was going to lie there, on the too-small-bed, in Brendon’s arms, and he was going to sing words of love softly until they drifted into blissful unconsciousness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're enjoying this? I actually wouldn't know because no one ever talks to me? I hope you are??


	9. Cast It All Aside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan blinked and tried not to look for too long; it hurt too much, like looking at the sun.

He woke up in the arms of the man he loved. He could smell him between the sheets; he smelt like good mornings, coffee, and summer days, mostly metaphorically speaking, of course. That was all to say, it made him happy to his very core. Then reality came crashing down in a sudden tidal wave of realisation, and Ryan pulled away immediately and got out of the bed, having to crawl over Brendon to do so and dragging the covers away slightly.

He felt tense as he padded across the floor, admittedly not that far, to the small kitchen. He could feel Brendon’s eyes on his back, burning holes in his flesh, but he didn’t acknowledge it yet. Until he had to, “Do you want something to eat?” he asked Brendon, turning to face him.

Brendon had propped himself up on his elbows, hair a mess from sleeping and his eyes still slightly unfocussed. He looked beautiful. Ryan blinked and tried not to look for too long; it hurt too much, like looking at the sun. There was a metaphor that Ryan could explore in depth in a song – looking at the sun, how all your life you’re told to not, you’re told that it can make you blind, but you look anyway. Everyone, at least once in their lives, has stared into the sun until they were forced to look away, blinking and seeing the imprint of it burnt onto their retinas. Looking at someone you don’t want to love, Ryan thought, was very much like that. You know you’re not supposed to, but most of the time, you do it anyway. Brendon let out a groan as he sat up and stretched; Ryan’s eyes were drawn involuntarily to look at the small stretch of skin that could be seen where his shirt lifted slightly from the action. He turned his eyes to the floor and stared resolutely. Like looking at the sun.

“Uh, yeah, whatever you’ve got,” Brendon said, noncommittally. Ryan nodded and turned to look through the cupboards. He soon hit a problem in the plan.

“Uh…” he said, slowly.

“You don’t have anything in, do you?” Brendon sighed, but it was said in a way that sounded like he was amused, and when Ryan turned to look at him, Brendon was smirking.

Ryan shrugged, trying not to laugh too, “Not really, no.”

“So, let’s go out,” Brendon suggested, eyes wide and innocent.

Ryan looked slightly apprehensive, rubbing at the back of his neck, “What if we’re seen?”

Brendon frowned at him, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to tame it, “Why’s that an issue? We’re married, remember?”

Ryan visibly blanched at that comment and Brendon felt a painful jolt in his stomach. Biting his lip, Brendon looked down at his hands, asking in a small voice a question he’d been scared to ask up until right then, “Do you regret marrying me?”

The hesitation when Ryan answered was clear in his voice, “No, I don’t regret marrying you,” he replied carefully, and Brendon knew that there was a ‘but…’ coming. “But I think we rushed into it, before we knew what we were letting ourselves in for.”

Brendon almost laughed at that, “Fuck that, Ryan, _no one_ knows what they’re doing.”

Ryan turned away from him, running his hand over his face and sighing, “I think it’s time you left,” he said almost tiredly.

Brendon flinched, forehead creasing as he frowned and opening his mouth to say something, but Ryan anticipated that and spoke over him, “Bren, don’t. Just don’t. Please, leave.”

Ryan still had his back to him, facing away from the door, and Brendon nodded to himself, “Alright, I’m going,” he told Ryan. Setting about pulling on his shoes Brendon got ready to leave, his eyes barely leaving Ryan’s back. Just before he left, however, he slipped his hand inside his jeans pocket and pulled out Ryan’s ring. Flipping it over in his hand he stared at it for a second before quietly placing it on the bedside table. Then he did leave, the door clicking shut behind him.

Brendon sighed as he turned back to face the door, guitar held in one hand, his pocket now empty. Sitting down on the small concrete wall just outside Ryan’s room, Brendon pulled the guitar onto his lap.

He plucked at it gently, playing bits and pieces of songs he’d been working on. It was disconnected and scrambled and Brendon thought it to be a perfect metaphor for his life and thoughts.

Ryan, inside, could hear him. He could hear Brendon playing without lyrics just outside his door. The temptation to go out there, to apologise, to pull him into his arms again, was all too real. He didn’t, however. He left Brendon out there, late morning, alone.

Brendon had been sat there for about an hour when someone, another guest he presumed, walked past. She stopped when she saw him, giving him a friendly but curious smile, “Girlfriend kicked you out?” she guessed.

Brendon stopped playing, letting one hand fall down onto the wall beside him, “Uh, no, my husband, actually.”

The woman’s eyebrows raised, “Huh, that sucks. He’s in there?” She asked, nodding towards the door. Brendon nodded, glumly. “Well, you’re young, you make mistakes, I’m sure whatever it is that happened can be fixed if you both want it badly enough.” Brendon’s eyes flashed up to meet hers and she smiled encouragingly at him, “I’ve got to go, but good luck.”

Brendon chewed at his lip as he watched her walk away, thinking about what she’d said and wondering if Ryan had heard. Slowly, Brendon got to his feet. He frowned at the closed door. He’d run all the way to Ryan’s because he wasn’t ready to give up on them – nothing had changed. He still wouldn’t give up. He’d always find his way back to Ryan no matter what; he’d never give up on Ryan.

As he walked away from Ryan’s room, he didn’t see Ryan watching him go through the window, lip trembling as he tried not to cry.

Brendon pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled a number, “Spencer? Hi, I need you to help me fix something.”

*

Jon stared at Brendon with nothing less than complete distaste. Perhaps even contempt. Brendon tried not to let it get to him. If anything, he should be glad that Jon was such a good friend to Ryan – but a part of him wished that Jon could see that he’d never regretted anything as much as this.

Spencer looked at Brendon with a lot less hate, but it wasn’t a kind look either. His lips were pursed as he stared at Brendon, eyes squinted slightly.

Brendon’s shoulders were hunched, and he looked like he wished he could just fold in on himself and disappear forever. But he did his best to stand straight, chin up as far as he could manage. “Please,” Brendon begged.

Spencer frowned, “I don’t know, Brendon…”

“Look, I’m begging here: this might be my last chance to fix this,” Brendon pleaded.

There was a long silence in which Brendon stared at his friends, hoping that they were still that, and they looked back at him, scrutinizing him.

“You love him?” Jon demanded suddenly and harshly, raising an eyebrow.

Brendon almost crumpled, “Of _course_ I do, can’t you see that?”

“Do you promise to never hurt him again?” Jon continued, ignoring Brendon’s question and retaliating with another of his own.

“I can do my best,” Brendon whispered.

Jon considered him, and Spencer glanced between the two of them worriedly. Then he piped up, “I’ll help you Brendon.”

Jon glanced at Spencer, thinking hard. Then, almost reluctantly, he smiled. “I will too,” he said, “It’s not like we’ve never been here before, right?”

“I think last time was slightly different,” Brendon said with a slight frown, “This… this will be hard.”

Jon and Spencer exchanged a look, and Spencer turned back to Brendon with an almost mischievous look, “Don’t worry. I know exactly how to do this.”

Brendon raised his eyebrows, expecting an explanation. He didn’t get one. Jon and Spencer immediately turned away from Brendon, in Jon’s front room, talking quietly to each other, and then Spencer left the room with a quick thumbs up to Brendon.

Jon seemed to get to work immediately too, pulling out his phone and sending a few rapid-fire texts.

Brendon stood there in bewilderment. “Uh, Jon?” he asked. Jon’s eyes didn’t move to look at him, still texting, but he grunted a noise that Brendon took to mean ‘Yeah?’ “What’s happening?”

Jon looked at him, then, with a look of confusion, “We’re carrying out your plan,” he said obviously.

“Oh,” Brendon said. “You think it’ll work?”

Jon laughed at him, “ _Please_ , both you and Ross _adore_ dramatics. It will totally work. Grand gestures and all that.”

Brendon nodded and didn’t fight the smile that was sneaking onto his face.

The three of them set to work, making phone calls, setting plans, organising like crazy. If this worked out, it would be one of the most ridiculous stunts they’d ever pulled.

Eventually, everything was in order. Three days in the future and everything Brendon had to offer would be put on the line.

There was only one thing left to do – make sure Ryan was there.

Sitting in his room, back at his house, Brendon stared at the piece of paper in his hands, rolling the black biro between his fingers. Crumpled up bits of paper lay around him – remnants of previous attempts. He sighed and put the pen to paper again, scrawled out a message, crossed out most of it, added to it, edited it, scribbled the whole thing out, started again.

Half an hour later, he had something that would just have to do; if he thought about it any longer his brain might explode.

Slipping from his house, middle of the night, he walked across town to the motel. It took him an hour to walk there, but the sky was clear and the stars shone down making him feel peaceful. Either this would work, or it wouldn’t. Either Ryan would forgive him, or he wouldn’t.

All Brendon knew was that at least he had given it his all.

_Ry,_

_If there’s even a part of you that still loves me – come to the Town Park at 3pm on Thursday._

_Please, hear me out one last time._

_I hope you come._

_I love you._

_Brendon._

_(In exchange for your time, I’ll give you a smile.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading, i don't feel like i say that enough (if at all?) and major thanks to the two sweethearts who messaged me after the last chapter that was a big comfort! so thank you ryden5ever and alecsmanwhore you guys are great <3 but also thank you to anyone who's reading it :) x


	10. You Make Me Feel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything around them seemed to fade from existence as they held onto each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: this almost didn't get uploaded because I didn't realise it was Saturday due to it being winter holiday.

“Where are we going?” Ryan demanded of Jon and Spencer again, straining against their hold on him and desperately wishing that the blindfold would evaporate so that he could _see._ He’d done as Brendon had asked, of course he had. If Brendon asked him to be somewhere, he’d go. It had been with a hesitant mind and heart that he’d gone, but he’d still gone. What he hadn’t anticipated was that Jon and Spencer would be there to ambush him, forcing a blindfold on him and, for all intents and purposes, kidnapping him. They’d been in a car; he knew that much, but apart from that he had no clue where they’d gone. Now they were walking down some sort of gravel pathway. Jon had one arm and Spencer had the other. He still couldn’t see anything.

“Patience,” Spencer reprimanded, “You’ll see.”

“Oh, I’ll _see,_ will I?” Ryan seethed.

Spencer just tutted at him.

A little further on, the two men pulled Ryan to a stop and Ryan felt one of them untie the knot at the back of his head. The relief at having it off him was overshadowed by how bright the sunlight was, too bright, and Ryan squinted as he let his eyes adjust.

“What the Hell?” Ryan wondered aloud as his eyes skated around. There were at least ten people stood a little distance from him, some wearing dresses and some in suits. But even more prominent were the _roses._ The Goddamn roses. In every colour that Ryan could ever imagine roses being, and some in colours that he never could have guessed. Ryan knew where this was going but he was still unsure of how they were going to get there. “Seriously, what is-?”

He didn’t even get to finish his sentence before someone, somewhere, pressed play. Just because he couldn’t see any speakers, didn’t mean there wasn’t any – and there obviously _was._

Ryan turned slightly, finding Jon and Spencer, and they just smiled at him (Jon, almost guiltily) and Ryan frowned.

It wasn’t until a voice started singing that Ryan recognised the song. Not that he really cared about knowing the song, because Brendon was singing. He could hear him, but he couldn’t see him. His eyes scanned the crowd for Brendon, once again taking in all the roses and the people. And Brendon was singing. And the people gathered there were singing backing vocals. And Ryan was in a complete state of confusion and was utterly overwhelmed.

_Such a funny way to fall._

_Tried to open up my eyes,_

Then he found Brendon.

_I'm hopin' for a chance to make it alright._

Relief flooded Ryan and he took an involuntary half-step forwards

People were dancing, an elegant routine, paired up men and women, swirling and spinning and flowing together, and singing, for Ryan, and all Ryan could do was to stare at Brendon.

Brendon was wearing black skinny trousers, and a white shirt, and Goddamn braces and a bowtie. Now, he was singing again. He was stood, completely still, and he was gazing at Ryan. Ryan was still confused, if he was honest.

_When I wake up,_

_The dream isn't done._

_I wanna see your face,_

_And know I made it home._

Brendon spread his hands out in front of him as the dancers took a step back, so that there was nothing but empty ground between Brendon and Ryan.

_I am still painting flowers for you._

Ryan stepped forwards again, Brendon’s name rising on his lips.

Brendon started to move towards Ryan, and Ryan laughed, so overwhelmed he was with _everything._ Brendon was singing still as he moved in Ryan’s direction and Ryan felt the air gush out of him, stopping his ability to breathe. His heart stuttered. He took a deep breath. He couldn’t even focus on what Brendon was saying.

Just as Brendon reached Ryan, everything went slow, quieter, and the two were so close that they could hear the other’s breathing in miniscule detail.

Brendon was still singing. Softly; carefully. Brendon was at the end of the song as he stood in front of Ryan and he sang the last chorus with gut-wrenching openness until he was just singing the last line over and over.

_I am still painting flowers for you;_

He said that line repeatedly and Ryan found that he had to fight to not cry.

_I am still painting flowers for you;_

Brendon was asking for Ryan’s trust again.

_I am still painting flowers for you._

He was asking for Ryan to believe that they could work.

He was saying that he believed that they could work.

He was asking for Ryan’s forgiveness, and his own belief.

And Ryan was nodding; one hand came to his mouth, covering it, as he began to cry. He was shaking. Brendon was staring into his eyes, his own eyes so filled with love for Ryan – but also with pain. Brendon’s eyes were filling with tears.

Ryan lifted his arms slightly, a suggestion, and Brendon didn’t hesitate before throwing himself into them. Ryan’s head was spinning, one thought being _Who the fuck were all these people and how had Brendon planned this?_ But primarily, he was thinking about Brendon. Just Brendon. Nothing fancy. Just the feel of Brendon in his arms, the smell of Brendon, the way Brendon’s name slipped from his lips.

“I’ve got you, Ryan,” Brendon whispered. “I’m never letting go.”

“No,” Ryan choked, but he was still clinging to Brendon so it barely had conviction.

“I do, Ry, I swear it, I do.” Brendon was telling him. “I’m holding onto you.”

Ryan whined, “Don’t let go,” and Brendon tightened his hold.

Everything around them seemed to fade from existence as they held onto each other.

The idea that all of this was put together for him flooded Ryan’s entire being. Brendon’s arm was around his shoulders and his own was around Brendon’s waist. He felt almost ill. All of this was for him. This was Brendon’s love letter to him. This was Brendon’s apology. He’d done the heartfelt confession at two am, he’d done the late night phone calls, and he’d done the begging and pleading. This time was different. This was the bold statement. This was the ‘I-love-you-and-I-don’t-care-who-knows’.  This was the ‘I’ll-shout-it-from-the-rooftops-if-that’s-what-it-takes’.

This was the ‘I-love-you-with-everything-I-am’.

It was overwhelming. “Oh, Brendon,” Ryan whispered. His eyes were drowning in tears that had yet to spill over.

Brendon pulled away from Ryan to face him, his expression open and honest, and Ryan had to work really hard to not cry too much. Brendon held him there at arm’s length, his hands on Ryan’s shoulders, staring into his eyes. “Ryan Ross,” he started, and Ryan nodded and then let out a short breathy laugh as a counter to the sob that was rising inside him, “I know that there is no way in Hell I can ever apologise enough for what I did.” A tear slid from Ryan’s eye, trailing down his cheek, and his vision was blurry. “But I can prove to you every day for the rest of my life that I love you. I can’t ask for you to forgive me; I can’t ask you to come home with me; those are things you need to decide for yourself whether you want to do them or not. All I’ve got is an ever-present ‘I love you’ on my lips and in my heart, and arms to hold you in.” Ryan sniffed, nodding to Brendon’s words. Brendon paused and took a deep breath. “If, by some miracle, you still love me and decide to forgive me, I will be the happiest man on Earth for the rest of eternity. If you don’t- If you can’t, then I will have to accept that. I hurt you in unimaginable ways and for that I’m sorry. I can’t turn back time; I can’t take back what I did. So, I’m asking if you could one day see yourself- see _us_ learning to forget, and if you could ever find your way back to me.”

Ryan was frozen in place, unable to do anything to stop the tears that were flooding down his face, unable to even shake or nod his head. All he could do was stare into Brendon’s deep brown eyes and wish that he knew how to feel. A whimper came from his throat and he jerked his head to the side, first shaking it, and then nodding, and then a mixture of the two. He shrugged, flailing his hands a little. He took a deep breath. Brendon wasn’t making a move to speak; he was just watching him with all the patience in the world but it didn’t look like he was breathing. Ryan chewed at the inside of his cheek nervously.

Then he nodded.

“Yeah,” he choked out, “Yeah, okay, yeah.”

Something inside Brendon seemed to come apart at those words. His face broke into something that wasn’t quite a smile. Tears spilled out onto his skin. He stared at Ryan with something akin to hope, “You mean it?”

“I-,” Ryan said, “I think so, yeah.”

Then Brendon really did smile. It was one of the widest smiles that Ryan had ever seen on the man, all teeth and shining eyes, but he couldn’t see it for long because he threw himself at Brendon that moment, pulling him in for a hug that lasted the ages. Brendon wrapped his arms around Ryan, tightly but lovingly, and buried his face in Ryan’s shoulder. His eyes squeezed shut as he smiled into the fabric. “I love you so much,” he murmured.

“You too,” Ryan replied, sighing into Brendon’s hold.

They slowly became aware that someone was clapping and they looked up in time to see the clapping spread from Jon and Spencer to the crowd of people gathered nearby. Brendon took a large sweeping bow and Ryan laughed with uncontrollable happiness. Their hands found each other, twisting round, fingers interlocking, and Ryan looked at Brendon as if he was the only thing on Earth that really mattered. “I think we need to talk,” Ryan said with a smile. It wasn’t said with an ominous aura but Brendon felt it anyway, that sense of foreboding. Ryan started to lead him away from the crowds, to where he could see a bench but Brendon pulled his hand away at the last second, “There’s just something I’ve gotta do first; I’ll meet you over there?”

Ryan nodded and walked away. Brendon turned and hurried over to the dancers and singers, “Thank you so much,” he said with feeling, “I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

They all smiled at him cheerfully and shook their heads modestly. Brendon exchanged a few words with them, and they told him that it was their pleasure, before all parting, going their separate ways. Jon and Spencer then approached Brendon, “Hey, Brendon,” Jon said first, “I know you’re wanting to get to Ross but I just want to apologise for yelling at you.”

Brendon shook his head, clapping Jon on the arm, “No worries, man, I understand. I’d have done the same.”

Spencer smiled at him too and then took Jon’s arm, pulling him away too and giving Brendon and Ryan a little privacy.

Brendon turned, and his eyes found Ryan, sitting on the bench. His head was tilted slightly to the side and he was smiling at Brendon, waiting for him. Brendon’s face settled into a natural, easy smile and he made his way over. Sliding onto the bench next to Ryan, they immediately linked hands. Ryan’s eyes were lit up with a simple kind of joy and Brendon assumed that his were the same. “So,” Brendon said.

Ryan laughed, “So.” He repeated in agreement.

The sat in silence for a moment until Ryan spoke up, “You probably know that we’re not just going to go back to the way we were.”

Brendon smirked, “I may have been hoping but yeah, I know.”

Ryan bit at his lip as he grinned at Brendon; he was finding it hard to control the buzz in his stomach that he was getting just from holding Brendon’s hand again. “I’m not saying we’ll never get there again, but I am saying that I’m going to take this incredibly slowly.” He suddenly looked nervous as he followed that up with, “I need to learn to trust you again.”

Brendon nodded, “I can understand that.”

“Good,” Ryan whispered, scooting closer to Brendon until their shoulders were leaning against the other’s.

“But we’re giving us a go again, right?” Brendon asked hesitantly.

Ryan smiled at him, “Definitely.”

Ryan squinted at Brendon; he looked like he wanted to ask something more, but wasn’t sure if he could. “What’s wrong?” Ryan pressed.

Brendon opened his mouth to answer, but then hesitated and chewed at his lip, “Uh,” he started, “What about the band?”

Ryan’s face grew closed off and blank for a second and his eyes dropped before trailing back up to meet Brendon’s gaze, “I-,” he stuttered, “I don’t think-,” he breathed out heavily, “I don’t think my being in the band is a good idea. For us, mostly. I think there’s too much pressure on our relationship with us both in the band.”

He seemed to be expecting an argument but Brendon found that he couldn’t agree _more_. “No, I agree, definitely. I mean, you had other options right? You were thinking about leaving anyway.”

Ryan shrugged, “I’d thought about it. Y’know, expanding my musical opportunities, but mostly I don’t want to risk our relationship for a band – no matter how much we love the band.”

“So, you’re not coming back to the band, but you’ll come back to me,” Brendon could hardly keep the smile from his voice.

“That about sums it up,” Ryan laughed.

It was there, sitting on the bench in the sunlight, that Brendon kissed Ryan, properly for the first time in weeks.

It was a long time before either one of them pulled away, and when they did, they kept their foreheads pressed together, passing breaths between them and enjoying the warmth that they and the sun brought. Ryan chuckled as Brendon pressed another short kiss to his lips, smiling into it. His hands came up to rest on the back of Brendon’s neck, fingers tugging a little on the short hairs there. Brendon’s arms were wrapped tightly around him, not giving him the chance to pull away.

Eventually, Ryan pulled away, “Remember what I said about taking it slow?” he whispered, “This is not taking it slow.”

“Too slow for my liking,” Brendon replied and Ryan laughed. Ryan stood up and with a goodbye, left Brendon sitting on the bench, watching him walk away with a look of longing but, ultimately, with happiness.

Brendon sat on the bench for a little while longer, smiling to himself, tracing the places that Ryan had touched with his own hands, running across the back of his neck, skating across his lips, down his arms, the spaces between his fingers. Each reminder made him shiver happily, learning Ryan’s touch again.

After a while he got to his feet, stretching, and set off, sauntering across the open ground with hardly a care in the world.

When he got home he lay on the bed that had been his and Ryan’s and, for the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel quite so empty. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (there are still more chapters this is not the end just to clarify bc my friend said this seemed like an end when she was reading it through)  
> i hope those of you that celebrate it had a rly great christmas and if you dont then a great few days not working or w/e i just hope you're happy :)


	11. A Rosy Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They stared at the floor for a long moment, in thought, until Brendon spoke quietly, “Alright, I’m just gonna say it: do we want to continue the band, or not?”

When Brendon woke up the next morning, he was light-hearted and happy. Lying in the sheets he stared up at the ceiling and felt bubbly inside. Ryan hadn’t exactly forgiven him, not in so many words, but they were getting there and Brendon couldn’t feel happier. Even though he would happily lie there forever, he knew that Jon had called a full band meeting – and even Ryan would be there. That was a much better way to spend the day.  

With the promise of seeing Ryan firm in his brain, Brendon jumped out of bed, getting ready at record speed. He ran down the stairs, taking two steps at a time, and hurriedly ate breakfast before cantering out the door.

He decided to walk to Jon’s, it being a warm summer’s day, and besides it wasn’t actually that far.

Spencer was already there – when wasn’t he? – and it seemed like he’d stopped there over night. Brendon briefly considered making a lewd comment about that, hinting at something he knew wasn’t true, but got distracted by Ryan’s arrival. Ryan’s face broke into a smile as soon as his eyes found Brendon, and Brendon knew that he’d done the same thing – mostly from the _tssk_ ing sound from Jon. Brendon stuck his tongue out at Jon before pulling Ryan in for a hug, intentionally not kissing him, remembering what Ryan had said about taking it slow.

Eventually they were all sat down, each with coffee or tea. Jon spoke first, him being the one that had called the meeting, “So I think we all know that Ryan’s leaving the band, officially.”

They all nodded, they all seemed to hold the same opinion on that. It was for the best.

Jon paused then, unsure of how to continue, “I-, uh, I would also like to leave the band.”

Three pairs of eyebrows shot up at his words and Spencer seemed the most at loss for what to say. Brendon got there though, “What? Why?” Then he looked almost scared, “Is this because of-?”

“No,” Jon interrupted, “It’s nothing to do with you,” he promised Brendon. It seemed to put Brendon at ease at any rate.

“So why?” Ryan asked, curious.

“I think it’s time for me to move on,” Jon replied, honestly, “So, with your permission, I’d like to quit.”

Spencer spoke then, and his voice was a little shaky, “You don’t need our permission,” he whispered. Jon looked at him, and something passed between their eyes. Spencer nodded and spoke again, voice stronger, “If it’s what you want, Jon, I’ll support you in that.”

Jon smiled at him, “Thanks, Spence, and it is.”

Brendon swallowed, and then smiled in a not-quite-forced way, “Me too, Jon.”

Jon smiled gratefully at them all, but Spencer and Brendon shared a look that said clearly ‘We need to talk’.  Jon must have picked up on it because he immediately looked pretty guilty and said, “Uh, yeah, that puts you two in a weird position, I’m sorry.”

Brendon shook his head, waving off Jon’s apology, but he still looked pretty concerned. Jon shuffled in his seat, uncomfortably, “Do you guys want a moment?”

Brendon caught Spencer’s eye, and then nodded, “Yeah, that’d be good, thanks.”

Jon and Ryan got up pretty quickly, Ryan squeezed Brendon’s arm gently before he left, as a gesture of support. Brendon gave him a quick smile that he hoped came across as an ‘everything-is-fine’ kind of smile, but was probably more leaning towards ‘my-whole-world-is-falling-apart’.

Brendon turned to look at Spencer, wide eyed. “Fuck,” he moaned the moment the door clicked shut behind Ryan and Jon.

Spencer let out a massive sigh of air, “I feel the same.” He sounded hollow.

They stared at the floor for a long moment, in thought, until Brendon spoke quietly, “Alright, I’m just gonna say it: do we want to continue the band, or not?”

Spencer’s eyes darted up to meet his and there was something determined in them. They both started to smile at the same time; of _course_ they wanted to keep the band going. “You sure about this? There’s no going back after this conversation is over, ‘cause I’m going to force you to stick with it,” Brendon warned, on the verge of laughter.

“We’re going to need a new bass player,” Spencer said simply and that was all the confirmation that Brendon needed.

They spent the next ten minutes excitedly chattering about plans for the future before Ryan poked his head around the door and grinned at them, “Can we come back in?” he asked.

Spencer and Brendon laughed simultaneously, having completely forgotten that they’d kicked their friends out of the room for their conversation, “Oh, my God, yes, sorry,” Brendon babbled. Ryan rolled his eyes and swung the door open fully, letting himself and Jon into the room again.

Sitting on the sofa, Ryan leaning against his arm (but acting like it was a total accident), Brendon started to feel hopeful for the future. Surrounded by his best friends, talking about music, feeling completely at ease, a smile was firmly in place on his face. Then a thought popped into his head, as unwanted and scary as any. “Oh, my God,” he said suddenly.

The others turned to him with varying degrees of surprise or expectancy.

“We’ve got to tell the fans.”

*

The red light on the camera signalled that it was recording. Spencer, Jon, Brendon, and Ryan all sat in front of it, staring into the unblinking red light.

“Is it recording?” Ryan asked, again.

Brendon gave him a heavy-lidded stare, “Yes Ryan, for the final time, _it is recording._ ”

“Shouldn’t we say something then?” Ryan retorted.

Brendon pinched his lips together in frustration, fighting the urge to snap at him. He sighed, “Well would you like to go first?” he asked, faux-politeness evident in his voice.

Spencer snapped then, “Right, Ryan and Jon out of the picture.” They all looked at him in surprise and he raised his eyebrows at them, “You heard me: out, out, out!”

Sighing and grumbling, Jon and Ryan got to their feet and edged away from the camera, leaving Spencer and Brendon with much more space and looking a lot more comfortable. Ryan and Jon watched the two from a distance, watched as an easy smile settled onto both Brendon and Spencer’s faces. It twisted in Ryan’s gut, the knowledge that he and Jon moving out made them more comfortable, but he knew that was absurd and he shoved it away mentally.

Brendon and Spencer set about recording a message, all smiles and cheer, one moment of weight as they talked about how they were sad that Ryan and Jon were going, but they immediately bounced back with promises of great things to come and an album that was already in progression.

As Ryan watched them, an almost peaceful feeling settled over him; Spencer and Brendon could pull this off, and he knew it. He smiled over at them, not that they noticed, and laughed along at every joke they made and smiled wryly at every comment on his and Jon’s absence.

Eventually, Brendon waved him and Jon over and the four of them squeezed in frame again. Ryan was unsure what Brendon wanted them to do, but he soon found the words to say to the fans. He explained, in simple terms, that he was ready for his own musical adventure, delicately leaving out the strain that the band put on his relationship with Brendon. Brendon had clearly picked up on that because he gave Ryan a knowing smile when Ryan glanced at him. Jon spoke next, saying that he felt how Ryan felt, how the band had been incredible and that he can’t wait to see where they go next – he just won’t be joining them.

They signed off with a wave to the camera, and Jon and Ryan thanked the fans for supporting them and making them feel like this was an option for them – even if they didn’t know what the reaction would be.

They stared at the red light for almost a full minute. Brendon leant forwards and clicked it off. Finally, they all breathed again. “Wow,” Ryan breathed. “That was-,”

“Yeah,” Brendon said in agreement. Then he nudged Spencer’s shoulder, “Guess it’s just you and me now, huh?”

Spencer smiled at him, “Just us.”

Jon rolled his eyes and heaved himself away from the other three. Brendon laughed loudly before pulling himself up too and offering a hand to Ryan – which Spencer grabbed hold of and swung himself up with a mischievous grin. Ryan laughed at Brendon’s indignant expression and got to his feet by himself.

The rest of the day passed in a flurry of contacting people and editing the mess of a video. There were people they had to talk to about the split, money and space issues that had to be straightened out, rights and claims, instrument ownership, and general logistics of it all. That was going to take weeks, if not months, to organise.

Eventually, _eventually,_ it was done. The video was ordered and sounded right – they’d watched it nine times – and they thought it was about time to release it.

Crowding around the laptop, they all exchanged long looks, “Are we sure?” Brendon asked.

They all nodded, but still looked a little nervous, “Just do it,” Spencer said.

Brendon hit the upload button and they all sat and waited, watching the small red bar slowly fill. There seemed to be a lack of air in the room, or at least something was suffocating. Brendon couldn’t breathe. No going back now.

When it finished uploading, Brendon logged onto the Panic! twitter account and tweeted:

@PanicAtTheDisco: _Watch this video. We have some things to explain._

The views on the video shot up much faster than they’d expected and pretty soon comments and tweets were flooding in with alarming speed. From what they could see, most of the replies weren’t directly negative – surprise was the common theme, really. A lot of people seemed to have gone into shock. A couple were angry, but for every angry person there were five people who were valiantly trying to defend the band and respect their choices.

Since Brendon was sat closest to the laptop, he began to scroll through the opinions, pointing out the most significant ones and the most upsetting ones. After a while, when Brendon seemed on edge and Ryan looked anxious, Jon spoke up quietly, “I think we should stop reading these.”

Brendon swallowed, staring at the screen, before nodding slightly and closing the laptop. Spencer let out a sigh of relief and Jon immediately stood up, moving away from the toxic zone. Spencer followed him into the kitchen a moment after, leaving Ryan and Brendon sat there by the laptop.

There was a heavy silence filling the room, made all the more notable by Jon and Spencer’s absence. Brendon breathed out weightily and Ryan took hold of his hand, rubbing his thumb in small comforting circles, “You know it’s going to be okay, right?” Ryan told him, breaking the silence and clearing a space in Brendon’s head. “The fans still love you, still love the band, and they’re gonna be there for the next album regardless of who’s still around.”

Brendon nodded, “I know,” he said, and he was being honest, “It’s just that we always said that the two of us would be making music together forever.”

Ryan laughed and rested his head on Brendon’s shoulder, “Okay, if that’s what you’re upset about, I promise to you, right here and now, that we will never stop making music. Even though it’s not for panic!, you and me will _always_ sing together, got it?”

Brendon smiled, softly, “Okay, got it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope everyone had a great new year's!   
> js, i think the next chapter is my favourite


	12. Little Things I Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon’s smile was so bright it could have lit the world (that he created) on fire.

Two days later, Brendon asked Ryan to move back into their home.

Knocking on the door to Ryan’s motel room in the early afternoon, Brendon felt a little nervous. His guitar was around his neck, ready to be played, just waiting for Ryan to open the door. He did a second later, appearing in Brendon’s sight, looking relaxed but amused by Brendon’s presence on his front door step. He opened his mouth to say something, but Brendon held up one finger, silencing him, and then strummed the guitar messily, singing:

_Oh Ryan,_

_Won’t you please come and live with me?_

_It’s lonely at night and it gets hard to breathe,_

_I’m scared of the dark without you next to me,_

_Please come get rid of the monsters for meee_

Ryan couldn’t hide his smirk, “You used ‘me’ three times; that’s hardly rhyming.”

Brendon rolled his eyes and shrugged, “You got the idea though.”

Ryan smiled, shyly, “I did.”

“Well?” Brendon asked, “Do I have to get down on one knee or are you going to move back in? I’m open to kidnapping too, fair warning.”

Ryan laughed, and then put on a show of mock internal-debating, “Well… I don’t know, Bren…”

“Alright,” Brendon grinned swinging the guitar round his body so that it hung across his back, “Kidnapping it is.” Then he made a grab for Ryan, picking him up and throwing him over his shoulder as if he didn’t weigh an ounce. Ryan was squealing and wriggling in Brendon’s hold, forcing the younger man to drop him with a shout of laughter. They were both laughing, and Ryan was looking at Brendon as if he had created the world, smiling, eyes shining. He looked down at the ground, smiling, before his eyes flicked back up, “Yeah, I’ll move back in.”

Brendon’s smile was so bright it could have lit the world (that he created) on fire.

*

Brendon had had a lot of greatest-days: 

Panic!’s first concert, first album release, his first date with Ryan, the first time Ryan had said “I love you”, second album release, the day Ryan said he would marry him, their wedding, every day of their honeymoon(now _that_ was a time that Brendon could happily relive in an eternal loop), and that day he added to the list: the day Ryan moved back in.

It wasn’t hectic like the day the both of them had moved in had been. Ryan only had a couple of bags of things. It was nice; everything fell back into place like it had never left.

When Ryan was done unpacking, Brendon wrapped an arm around his waist and kissed him lightly on the cheek. It was the first kiss since that one on the bench, under the sun, and, even though it was barely a kiss, it made Ryan’s heart beat violently faster in his chest. He smiled back at Brendon, hopefully not too madly, and tried to control his breathing. “Shall we make dinner?” Brendon asked, eager for some domestic normality.

Ryan’s face lit up, clearly sharing Brendon’s thought line, “Yes, please!”

They raced down the stairs, from their bedroom to the kitchen, giggling like schoolchildren. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, and acting on impulse, Ryan spun round and grabbed Brendon by the waist, swinging him round, laughing. They ended up pressed together and Ryan gazed into Brendon’s eyes, holding his body tightly against his own for a moment.

Brendon was completely taken by surprise, but reacted quickly, relaxing into the moment before Ryan pulled away with a nervous smile. Brendon smiled back at him, encouragingly, and Ryan laughed, taking Brendon’s hand and leading him in the direction of the kitchen. Brendon felt slightly dazed.

Ryan immediately started rooting through cupboards upon entering the kitchen, falling back easily into their usual routine of Ryan cooking and Brendon assisting. Brendon slipped out of the kitchen briefly before returning, holding a CD, and putting it into the stereo. “What’s this?” Ryan asked, glancing over at him as the first song began to play.

Brendon shrugged, “Modern day version of a mixtape, I guess.”

Ryan smiled and nodded, turning back to the cooker. “Hey, Bren, pass me a knife, would you?”

They cooked, music played, and things were almost back to normal. Ryan wriggled his hips a little, making an attempt at dancing to the music. Brendon laughed, “I see none of my lessons ever paid off.”

Ryan stuck his tongue out at him and retaliated by pulling Brendon closer and dancing as seductively as he possibly could up against him. Brendon laughed at the ridiculousness of it all – the song wasn’t even slightly suggestive and they had a pot of chicken curry bubbling on the oven behind them. He kissed Ryan lightly on the top of his head and then put his hands on Ryan’s shoulders, holding him still, “Watch me, do what I do.”

They danced while they waited for the food to cook, goofing around in the small kitchen, always contrasting their moves with whatever song came on – they slow danced to rock songs, and they head banged to classical music. There was only one song where they danced accordingly and as the song swelled to its loudest, but still soft, Brendon held Ryan in his arms, swaying and spinning round the kitchen.

_I need you so much closer_

Ryan stared into Brendon’s eyes, smiling helplessly and letting Brendon have complete control.

_I need you so much closer_

He breathed out in a state of total serenity.

_I need you so much closer_

Brendon was close, so close, but not close enough, and his hand gripped Brendon’s back tightly, pulling him in further. He could see Brendon in startling clarity and he almost forgot to breathe. Brendon’s lips were parted slightly, and his eyes kept trailing down to Ryan’s, giving Ryan all the information he needed to know that Brendon was dying to kiss him.

He could feel himself falling, Brendon was only a few inches away; if he leant in a little further, their noses could bump, their lips could meet, their skin could brush against one another. One of Brendon’s hands lifted and gently dragged across Ryan’s cheek, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his skin litter with goosebumps. He sighed slightly, leaning into the tantalising touch.

_I need you so much closer_

Brendon’s hand ghosted across his skin, moving backwards and coming to rest on Ryan’s neck. Ryan’s eyes darted down to Brendon’s lips, and then further down, watching the way Brendon’s throat moved as he swallowed, before moving back up so their eyes met – only hesitating for a second on his lips again.

The wait before it happened was eternal and excruciating; every movement seemingly magnified and slowed down to unbelievable deliberateness. They weren’t dancing anymore; the song could have stopped for all they were aware, they just stood there, closer than they had been in days, on the edge of _something_ – a cliff, perhaps.

Brendon seemed to be looking for some sort of confirmation that this, that all of this, was okay.

Ryan gave an almost imperceptible nod.

Then they were kissing. Ryan felt his body leaning backwards slightly for Brendon’s lips on his were intense and fervent, full of need and desire. He trusted Brendon to hold him and wrapped his arms around Brendon’s neck, putting a lot of weight on Brendon’s hand on his back and hanging off Brendon’s neck, kissing him back. Brendon’s kiss was soft but strong, deep and lingering, desperate but loving. Since Ryan’s eyes were closed, he couldn’t see Brendon, but he could feel him, pressing into him in an attempt to be closer, he could smell him, all the ways Brendon usually smelt, deodorant, hair products, and coffee, and he could _taste_ him, all the ways he tasted of _Brendon_.

He breathed in sharply through his nose as Brendon’s tongue found a way into his mouth, licking at Ryan’s lips before pushing past. Ryan reacted instinctively pressing tighter against Brendon.

When Brendon pulled back, it felt to Ryan as though the world stopped spinning – or maybe it started spinning again. He wasn’t sure what the difference was or even if it mattered. Ryan was left breathing heavily. Brendon grinned at him, pulling him upright. Dizzily, Ryan turned away to check on the food.

Behind him, Brendon was smirking, looking incredibly proud with himself.

*

A couple of hours later they collapsed onto the sofa together, sprawling out comfortably, legs getting tangled. After a second of sitting there, Brendon sighed, “One of us has to get up and turn the TV on,” he said with a pointed look at Ryan.

Ryan whined and pouted, rubbing at his face in a cute pretence at tiredness. Brendon rolled his eyes and got to his feet grumbling. Ryan gave him a grateful pat on the ass as he got up and Brendon turned round and whacked at Ryan’s head, reasonably gently. “Jerk,” Ryan muttered good-naturedly, making Brendon smile as he turned his back on Ryan.

Ryan lay on the sofa, watching Brendon with a smile. Warmth spread through his entire body, right to his toes and his fingertips, as the reality of the moment – not to mention the _normality_ of it – sunk in. They were acting how they used to, as if the time spent apart had been merely a blip in the run of the mill if anything at all: right from the impromptu dance party in the kitchen, to the teasing, the kissing, everything, it was as if nothing had changed. The way they breathed now with each other in the house again was different even, like they’d forgotten how breathing was supposed to feel until they were back together.

Brendon stuck a film in the player and settled back on the sofa with Ryan, Ryan’s eyes didn’t move from him, while Brendon’s were on the screen, and, as the light from the screen lit up the room more, Ryan smiled. Staring at Brendon, Ryan was utterly happy and he leant in to kiss Brendon’s cheek softly. When he pulled back, Brendon was blushing slightly. Ryan giggled and let his head lean on Brendon’s shoulder.

As they watched the movie, Ryan and Brendon linked hands, constantly letting their fingers thread and unthread, tangle and change, finding new positions, exploring the skin, and Ryan’s stomach was filled with butterflies. He could feel himself starting to blush and he buried his face into Brendon’s neck for a second, breathing out in a soft chuckle as he rubbed against Brendon’s shirt, before setting back into the usual position.  Brendon smiled, mostly to himself, and nuzzled into Ryan’s hair.

Lying there on the sofa, Ryan’s mind couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that just upstairs, hidden in one of his bags, was his wedding ring.

Later that night, Brendon asked Ryan where he wanted to sleep, internally pleading that Ryan would chose to sleep with him. Ryan’s face flickered for a second before, with an apologetic expression, he said, “I think I’d like to sleep in the spare room tonight.”

Brendon desperately tried not to let his disappointment show on his face. He nodded and smiled, “That’s alright, c’mon.”

Taking Ryan’s hand, he led the way up the stairs, pulling him to a standstill outside the spare room’s door. Ryan stared into Brendon’s eyes and he smiled, softly and almost sadly. Brendon kissed the sadness from the smile and said goodnight, leaving Ryan leaning up against the doorpost, a more genuine smile lingering on his lips along with the memory of Brendon’s kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i rly like this chapter - i hope you did too


	13. Played Our Parts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer was looking at him like he was going to say something incredibly girly for a 5’11” drummer.

A few days later when Brendon woke up, it was to the sounds of Ryan singing in the shower. He lay in bed, smiling at the ceiling, just listening to the melodies that Ryan created. The temptation to join Ryan in the shower was strong but Brendon shook it off, instead getting out of bed and tiptoeing down the stairs – so as not to alert Ryan of his presence and make him stop singing – to make coffee and pray that he had something in his cupboards for breakfast.

Even in the kitchen he could hear Ryan singing, and he smiled to himself as he heard Ryan mess up a high note and pause, most likely to swear, before trying again, only that time hitting the note perfectly. Biting his lip and grinning, he glanced up at the ceiling, heart and mind buzzing.

Brendon pulled open one of the cupboards and leant down to look inside, sighing and pushing a few boxes and things out of the way. He hummed under his breath to the tune of Ryan’s singing and let himself enjoy the simple pleasure of having Ryan in the house again.

By the time the water from the shower shut off and Ryan’s singing dropped out for silence, Brendon had found a grand total of nothing edible. He was standing leaning against the counter, chewing his lip and occasionally sipping at the coffee he’d made. Upstairs he heard Ryan open his bedroom door and call inside, “Hey, Bren, you up yet?”

Brendon smiled as Ryan reclosed his door and continue on, down the stairs, appearing in the kitchen doorway with a smile, “You _are_ up.”

“Well,” Brendon shrugged, “Things to do and places to be.”

Ryan smiled, pausing, and then, “Ooh, is that coffee?” He made a grab for Brendon’s mug, snagging it from his grasp and taking a gulp of it.

“Give that back, you primitive monster!” Brendon exclaimed, starting and grabbing Ryan round his waist, batting at his hand and attempting to shake his mouth from its place on the mug’s rim. Ryan leant away, keeping his mouth on the drink, making muffled sounds as he tried not to spill it, one hand hitting at Brendon’s hold on him. Brendon laughed as Ryan tried to wriggle away.

Ryan turned around in Brendon’s arms so that they were facing each other and stared at him, one eyebrow raised and a smirk on his lips, as he held the coffee behind Brendon’s back over his shoulder. Brendon shifted his weight onto one leg, cocking his hip out to the side and looking at Ryan with appraisal written all over his face. Ryan giggled. “Give me back my coffee, Ross,” Brendon ordered.

“No chance,” Ryan whispered, and pressed his lips to Brendon’s. Then he was gone, ducking out of Brendon’s hold, walking away with a glance over his shoulder, smirking, hips knocking from side to side as he walked. With a quick wave of the cup in Brendon’s direction, Ryan disappeared into the front room, calling through a second later, “Make me breakfast!”

*

Brendon lay back on the floor, thumping his head against the carpet, fed-up, “This is ridiculous.” Spencer rolled his eyes at him, scoffing and telling him to get up.

“There’s nothing ridiculous about this, Brendon,” Spencer chided.

“There’s something ridiculous about how _lame_ all of these people are,” Brendon retorted, like a child.

Spencer just laughed.

They’d been interviewing bass players for at least five hours in a rented practice room and, so far, everyone (well not _everyone_ ; that _one_ guy had been reasonable) had been mediocre at best. They didn’t really need a new band member; just someone to cover them on tour because there was no way Brendon could play bass, lead, and sing, all at the same time. Brendon had spent pretty much every moment in between meeting people griping about having to meet people; a few choice curse words had been mentioned in Jon’s name too. Spencer called for the next person to come in (they actually had a queue, how mental was that?) and nudged at Brendon to sit up.

Dragging his body into a sitting position, still on the floor, Brendon had to crane his neck up to actually see him, and the first words out of Brendon’s mouth were, “Dude, you’re really tall.”

The man laughed and grinned down at Brendon and Spencer, “Hi,” the tall guy said, “My name’s Dallon Weekes.”

The way he grinned at Brendon comfortably made Brendon think that this guy would fit right in immediately.

They played for a bit, their music fitting well together, but mostly they just talked – for much longer than they had with any other guy to come through – and Brendon especially seemed to hit it off with him.

When Dallon left, hours later, Brendon turned to look at Spencer, eyebrows raised, “Do we really need to see anybody else?”

Spencer grinned, “Nah, I don’t think so.”

“Thank God,” Brendon said emphatically.

*

Two hours later, Brendon and Spencer had relocated to Spencer’s house and were sat in the front room, drinking their way through all of Spencer’s beer. “How are things with Ryan?” Spencer asked Brendon, between swigs.

Brendon puffed out his cheeks and let out a sigh of air, “Honestly? I’m not sure.” He rubbed at his face before taking a drink, “He slept in the other room last night, which is fine, I guess, I mean he moved back in and that’s good right?”

Spencer smiled at him encouragingly, “That’s good,” he told Brendon, “What did you do last night- No, that’s not what I meant- Stop looking at me like that- Fuck you, Urie.” He slapped at Brendon’s head.

Brendon laughed, ducking out of reach, where he sat, “Alright, perv,” he teased. Then he shook his head, “We unpacked his things, made dinner, uh, slow danced in the kitchen, kissed, watched films, then went our separate ways.”

Spencer was looking at him like he was going to say something incredibly girly for a 5’11” drummer, and, “That’s _adorable_ , you slow danced?” Spencer was grinning, looking like all his dreams were alive.

Brendon rolled his eyes, but then he started to grin, blushing too, and said, “Yeah, we slow danced, and raved, and threw ourselves around. It was kind of a dance party.”

Spencer laughed, “Your relationship is utterly brilliant.”

Brendon shook his head, suddenly looking a little bit sad, “Some of the time.” He swallowed, thinking about Ryan, and quickly took a drink of beer to cover.

Out of nowhere, Spencer became serious, “Look, Brendon, I promise you that it’s going to be fine with you and Ryan.” Brendon looked at him earnestly, maybe a little bit drunk, in need of someone to tell him that it would be okay. “You and Ryan… You’re complicated. You love deeply and wholly. When you fall in love, you fall really hard. That’s tough. But it also means that you don’t back out of it easily. You’re going to be fine.”

Brendon nodded, and took another drink.

“Just don’t forget it, Brendon,” Spencer said, and then he grinned, “Now get your ass back to Ryan and drink your own beer.” Brendon laughed softly, picking himself up off the ground and getting to his feet. “Also,” Spencer continued, “Tell him it was your idea to get tipsy; I’m not having that one on me.”

Brendon laughed harder at that, “No chance, he’d skin me.”

With a few parting words, Brendon left the room, still holding a bottle of beer in one hand.

On his way out of the door he bumped into Jon, coming in, and Brendon frowned a little in confusion at Jon’s surprise to see him. They exchanged a few words and then Jon hit him on the arm before making his way inside Spencer’s house, and Brendon turned to leave.

As Brendon walked the streets back to Ryan, he felt slightly bubbly inside. Despite his worries about what was going to happen, he was also really excited. He was getting his second chance. He dumped the empty beer bottle into someone’s trash.

Ryan was waiting for him, sat on the doorstep with a bottle of beer of his own, enjoying the sunlight. When he saw Brendon coming, he started to grin, standing up and walking to the gate to greet him. Leaning over, Ryan kissed Brendon carefully before pulling away and saying, “You’ve been gone a very long time.”

Brendon laughed and shrugged, “Me and Spencer got talking.”

Ryan smiled knowingly, “I’m sure. Did you find anyone to play bass?”

“We think so,” Brendon said, as Ryan opened the gate, letting Brendon through. They began to walk back to the house, chatting about their days – from what Brendon could tell, Ryan had pretty much laid around all day. Brendon rolled his eyes a lot at that and added “Get Ryan to do something useful” to the top of his To Do List.

If Brendon was honest, just seeing Ryan in their house again (and not to mention that kiss outside) was making his heart beat ten times a second and he was finding it increasingly harder to keep himself from grinning all the time. The knowledge that they were just testing the waters was _somewhere_ in his mind (probably a back corner underneath a pile of some other important-but-forgotten-about piece of information) but he was pushing that aside with the constant thrum of _Ryan’s back, Ryan’s back, Ryan’s back._

As Brendon sat at the breakfast bar in their kitchen, he smiled at Ryan, watching him make him dinner, and he hardly even noticed the way he was slipping into the belief that everything was as it always was. Every now and then, Ryan would glance his way with a warm smile and Brendon would continue to beam back, content and relaxed. No conversation was made and it was one of the rare times that no music was filling any and all silence. Even so, it was comfortable.

Well, it was comfortable until the smoke alarm went off. The high-pitched beeping was mixed with Ryan’s loud shout of some made-up-swear as he began to frantically grab pots off the stove and wave his arms around madly. Brendon jumped to his feet too, eye wide and panicked. “What did you do?!” Brendon screeched.

“I don’t know!” Ryan shouted back. “Something’s burning!”

The room was steadily filling with black smoke as the two of them shouted incoherent things at each other. Ryan was growing more and more frustrated and he threw one of the pots he was still holding onto the floor, the contents spilling out, as he yelled at Brendon, “Well, why don’t _you_ make the food next time, asshole?”

The smoke alarm was still beeping, driving them to insanity, and they turned to glare at it simultaneously. A silence stretched between them, filled only by the alarm, and Brendon swallowed. Ryan cocked his hip out to the side and turned to glare at Brendon, “Well?” he demanded.

“Well, what?” Brendon spat back.

“Are you going to shut that blasted thing off?”

Brendon pursed his lip and restrained from shoving Ryan, “You’re the one who triggered it!”

“Well, I’m a little busy!” Ryan growled, gesturing at the food on the floor and the kitchen counters.

They glared at each other for a moment longer before Brendon turned away viciously, cursing and grabbing a chair to stand on as he reached up for the alarm above the doorway. As he jabbed at the button to turn the alarm off he could hear Ryan picking up the pot off the floor.

Brendon’s breathing was heavy as he felt himself getting worked up over the accident. He was aware that Ryan was seething also, both of them thrown completely off track by the sudden argument.

Shoving the chair back underneath the table, Brendon turned to see Ryan wiping up sauce off the floor, his entire body taught and bristling with anger.

Brendon wanted to say something that could smooth over the moment, knowing that right then was a bad time to start a fight between the two of them that would probably last for days, but he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Anything he might have said got stuck in his throat.

Ryan stood up and threw the cloth he had been using into the sink.

“Ryan-,” Brendon started, but he was silenced by a sharp look from Ryan. It became clear instantly that Ryan wasn’t going to talk to him, furiously throwing burnt food into the trash and wiping up all the spills.

Brendon crept out the room, silently.

Ryan sighed the moment Brendon had left, turning to lean against the counter and rub at his eyes tiredly.

It wasn’t as though he had planned on picking a fight with Brendon – he’d made a mistake cooking and all of the pent up bad feelings directed towards Brendon had bubbled over. It was the easiest thing to channel in that moment, so he’d let it pour out. Then he was left feeling bitter and a little guilty.

The silence in the kitchen was infuriating and he picked up a metal pot only to throw it back down purposefully to make a noise. The clanging sound barely satisfied and he thought he heard the bedroom door creak open as Brendon stuck his head out curiously.

He refused to let himself go to Brendon for a long time, hiding sat outside in the garden (maybe partially wishing that Brendon would come to him). Eventually, the memories that they had in that exact spot got to be too much for him, and the cold was creeping into his bones, so he got to his feet and moved back inside the house.

He toyed with the idea of sleeping in the spare room again, but he knew he needed to at least try to fix everything with Brendon – and he couldn’t do that with a wall in between them.

He stepped into their room cautiously.

Brendon was in bed, curled up with his eyes closed, but one of his hands was rubbing up and down his arm, giving it away that he was still awake. Ryan smiled softly and let his feet carry him over to the bed, quickly slipping off his jeans, t-shirt, and socks, and sliding into the bed, his cold body wrapping around Brendon’s warm body.

Brendon automatically leant back into the touch, allowing Ryan to press his hand against his stomach, rubbing small circles of comfort.

“I’m sorry,” Ryan murmured.

“I know,” Brendon whispered back, “Me too.”

Ryan kissed the back of Brendon’s neck gently and smiled as he breathed in Brendon’s familiar scent properly for the first time in a long while. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is late: time got away from me and i didn't realise i was supposed to have updated till this morning!


	14. Once It Falls Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A soft breeze blew across the garden, and the music drifted away on it, off to faraway places.

Brendon breathed out heavily as he realised that he was conscious. Ryan’s arms were still around him, warm and soft, and Brendon had no real desire to get up. Ryan was already awake, Brendon knew this because a moment later Ryan kissed his neck and whispered, “Good morning,” to him.

Brendon wriggled back into the hold more and sighed, “Can we stay here all day?”

Ryan laughed, softly, “No, we have to get up.”

Brendon frowned, “Why?” he complained.

“Because I say so,” Ryan replied, nosing at Brendon’s neck. While his words were saying ‘get up’, his actions were saying quite the opposite and Brendon laughed softly.

“You’re tickling me,” Brendon whispered, not really objecting to anything.

Ryan laughed, pulling away from Brendon and sitting up in bed, sliding his feet round to the side and moving to stand up. Brendon wrapped one hand around Ryan’s wrist, holding him there for a second while he sat up too. “Thank you,” Brendon said, softly, and Ryan smiled, but looked a little confused. “For sleeping with me last night,” Brendon clarified, and Ryan smiled a little brighter. Brendon pressed a gentle kiss to Ryan’s cheek before letting go of Ryan and letting him get out of bed.

*

Brendon found Ryan in the kitchen, drinking coffee and listening to a CD. Ryan seemed a little on edge, but Brendon pushed that thought away, assuming it was just about their sleeping together and that Ryan would be fine.

They made small talk, but not awkwardly, and went about their morning routine together, weaving a little waltz around one another as they moved around the house.

Around eleven, Ryan and Brendon sat down to eat breakfast, admittedly a late one, and they talked over pancakes.

Ryan swallowed, “So, uh, this might be-,” he paused, “This might be awkward-,” he broke off.

Brendon raised an eyebrow, inquisitively.

“I have a meeting today,” Ryan said in a rush.

“Oh,” Brendon said, surprised, “About- Uh, about, the E-mail?” His eyes darkened a little but he worked hard to not look to upset when Ryan confirmed.

“Yeah, it’s nothing serious, just, you know, coffee and-,” he breathed out heavily, “Yeah.”

Brendon smiled, a little forced but at least he was trying, “Right, well, that’s great, really great, Ry.” He raised his mug of coffee to Ryan, “Here’s to hoping it goes well.”

Ryan laughed, sounding relieved, and lifted his own drink, “Here’s to hoping it goes well,” he repeated and took a large gulp of coffee, not taking his eyes off Brendon.

Ryan left at two, pulling on a coat and a scarf, talking to Brendon as he got ready. Brendon was leaning up against the hall wall, watching Ryan, barefooted with the hems of his jeans rolled up slightly. His hair was a little mussed and he was wearing a plain white shirt. Ryan, on the contrary, was wearing what Brendon could only call ‘business-casual’. His shirt was buttoned up and he wore a blue tie to go with it, knotted properly. Brendon smiled as he watched Ryan tie the scarf around his neck, chattering happily. Ryan was giving Brendon a list of things to remember: what time he’d be back, reminder to call Spencer, write some music if he could, he’d call if anything happened to delay him.

“Ryan,” Brendon interrupted, “You’re going out for a couple of hours.” He laughed, shaking his head, “I’ll be fine. Have fun.”

Ryan looked at him with amused eyes and wiggled a finger at him, “C’mere.”

Brendon chuckled and moved forwards. Ryan wrapped an arm around Brendon’s waist, pulling him in the final distance and kissed him gently on the mouth, “I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll be here,” Brendon replied.

Just as Ryan opened the door, he turned back, “It was my pleasure,” he said abruptly.

“What?” Brendon asked, confused.

Ryan bit his lip, “Sleeping with you, last night. It was my pleasure.”

Brendon’s smile lit up his face, and Ryan returned it warmly, “I’ll see you later,” he repeated, and with that he was gone.

*

Brendon smiled, strumming the guitar as he leant up against the wall.

_Slowly, slowly_

_We become the secrets that we keep_

The sun was shining down on him and he felt totally at peace with the world, his fingers danced across the simple chords and his voice danced along too. The concrete floor was hard beneath him as he sat there, legs stretched out before him.

_Yeah, it’s only you_

_It’s only me_

_It’s only love and it’s only fair_

_That you find your peace_

A soft breeze blew across the garden, and the music drifted away on it, off to faraway places.

_You’ll get high_

_Off of loving me_

_And then you’ll finally see_

He laughed, softly, smiling at the world, and he let his eyes slide shut as he played.

 

_I hope you finally see_

One of his feet was jerking slightly, in time to the music, and his head bopped from side to side too. He stretched his vocals, experimenting and changing the natural tune of the song, but not enough to make it unrecognisable.

_Yeah it’s only you_

_It’s only me_

_Lonely love_

_As long as I can hear you sing_

He took a deep breath before belting out the next line:

_And now I’m hearing you sing!_

He was singing exuberantly, joyfully, and enjoying himself thoroughly. He’d talked on the phone to Spencer earlier – although Jon had actually been the one to pick up the phone – talking over plans for the band and organising another meet up with that Dallon Weekes. He’d checked out some of the man’s original work, some band called The Brobecks, and had been very surprised to find out that he was a damn good singer. That gave Brendon plenty of ideas for backing vocals in their songs, an extension of Ryan’s place, he supposed. Spencer was great, but he wasn’t a singer – hard to be when you’re beating out a rhythm so hard that you lose your breath. It would be nice to have another decent singer in the band still.

 

_Yeah, it's only you it's only me_

_It's only love and it's only fair that you find your peace!_

He let the song finish, smiling at the world. Dallon also seemed to be a proficient song writer and that would come in handy, especially on the days where Brendon himself couldn’t get the words to form in his mind.

He picked himself up off the ground, dusting himself down and headed inside – just on time. He heard Ryan slamming the door and the rustle of his coat being pulled off, “Hey, Bren, you there?” Ryan yelled, and something in his voice sounded tight and somewhat pissed off.

Brendon appeared at the end of the hallway and smiled at him, hoping he was wrong about Ryan’s voice, “Hey!” He said warmly, and then, “How was it?”

Ryan turned to him and gave him a grumpy look, “Fucking awful,” he said, and Brendon’s heart sank.

“Oh,” he said, and he lifted his arms slightly, offering a place of comfort to Ryan. His heart almost broke as Ryan’s face crumpled. Ryan practically threw himself into Brendon’s waiting arms, falling into the hold and letting all his frustration sink out and turn to tiredness. “I’m sorry, I really wanted this to go well for you,” Brendon said softly.

“Me too,” Ryan replied, clinging to Brendon. Brendon smoothed Ryan’s hair down, soothingly.

They stood there for a long while, Ryan finding solace in Brendon’s gentle touch and Brendon just being glad that he could do something to help Ryan.

*

Ryan leant against the wall, watching Brendon through his eyelashes, a soft smile on his face. Brendon had his guitar balanced on his knee, plucking at chords, and a notebook was open in front of him where he occasionally scribbled something down with the pen that he was holding in his mouth.

Brendon was all but oblivious to Ryan’s existence at that moment – he was focusing on the music.

He hummed under his breath on occasion too, sometimes muttering words along with the tune. There was something there, but not fully, so he kept working at it, plucking away and humming short ditties.

“What you working on?” Ryan asked, idly.

“A song,” Brendon answered, automatically, flashing a cheeky grin at Ryan to show he was only teasing.

Ryan rolled his eyes, “Alright, whatever, don’t tell me; see if I care.”

Brendon laughed, “Alright, but I’ve only got a little bit.” He paused, clearing his throat, and then said, “So this is what I’m thinking for the chorus.”

He played the guitar fracturedly, and sang with an almost-confident voice.

_Oh Memories!_

_Where'd you go?_

_You were all I've ever known!_

_How I miss yesterday!_

_How'd I let it fade away?_

He looked to Ryan nervously, and said, “I’ve got some odd lines for verses, but I’m not sure how to fit them in yet. Like, _They were young and independent, and they thought they had it planned. Should have known right from the start you can't predict the end._ ”

Ryan was looking at him, a little oddly, but then a smile came over his face, “I like it.” He told Brendon. “It’s good.” He frowned a little, “Play me the chorus again.”

Brendon complied, and Ryan leant forwards, listening, and then asking Brendon to play it one more time. Brendon’s playing became a little more confident each time he played it through.

“Try changing that first B to a B major,” Ryan suggested, looking deep in thought.

Brendon tried it out and grinned, “God, yeah that’s good.” He laughed.

Ryan smiled, “I think so too,” he bit his lip, “I won’t get too involved; it’s all yours now.” Brendon laughed, looking a little awkward, but Ryan breezed right past it, “I like the lyrics too,” he told Brendon, “There’s something… beautifully depressing about them.”

Brendon shook his head, chuckling, “I guess you’re right.”

Brendon went back to picking away at the chords and time passed by slowly until Brendon looked up suddenly and said, “Play me something.”

Ryan blinked in shock, looking over at him, “As in a cover of something?”

“Sure, if that’s what you want,” Brendon answered leniently. “I just feel like you rarely play for me anymore.”

“Alright,” Ryan said, delicately. “Hang on, let me think.” He smiled, “This might sound different. Give me your guitar.”

Brendon shrugged, “Doesn’t matter, go for it,” he said, passing the guitar over to him.

Ryan sang quietly, with only a few strums of the guitar at the start.

_It's hard letting go_

_I'm finally at peace but it feels wrong_

Brendon watched him with keen eyes and Ryan let himself stare right back.

_Slow I'm getting up_

_My hands and feet are weaker than before_

The silence in between each line was louder than the music itself and Brendon barely dared to breathe.

_And you are folded on the bed where I rest my head_

Now, Ryan played with a little more determination.

_But I'm already there, I'm already there_

_Wherever there is you, I will be there too_

Brendon smiled at him, not quite sadly, but not exactly happily either. Every breath that Ryan took was too loud and Brendon zeroed in on each one, listening as Ryan pulled in the air before returning it with words and sound.

_There's nothing that I'd take back_

_But it's hard to say there's nothing I regret_

There was a terse, slight uncomfortable feel in the air and Ryan forced himself to relax a little.

_‘Cause when I sing, you shout_

_I breathe out loud_

Brendon joined in, quietly, quietly, when Ryan sang the second pre-chorus, giving the song a whole new life.

_A thousand silhouettes dancing on my chest_

_No matter where I sleep, you are haunting me_

_But I’m already there_

Brendon smiled at him, encouragingly, and they closed the song together, voices crying out through the dark and empty house.

_Wherever there is you, I will be there too_

Silence flooded the room, broken only by the sound of their breathing, and Ryan spoke quietly, “We still sound good together.” There was hardly any life to his words, and he felt too laid bare by the song. He got to his feet. Swallowed. His eyes passed over Brendon’s face, and they were wide. Brendon was watching him, cautiously, as if he were expecting Ryan to cause a scene.

But Ryan’s face closed off, he became unmovable and expressionless, a statue with no emotion carved into him. “I’m going to bed,” Ryan told him, a moment later, and Brendon almost sighed in relief.

Brendon smiled at him, trying to make it look un-forced, and said, “I’ll be up soon, I just want to get a few more lines of this done.”

Ryan nodded, “Alright,” he replied, and his voice was little more than a whisper. He handed the guitar back to Brendon and turned to leave.

As Ryan reached the door, Brendon’s voice called to him again, “Ryan?” Ryan froze, but didn’t turn around, giving Brendon the chance to talk. “Are you- Are we okay?”

Ryan tensed up, and Brendon could see that. His voice was controlled when he spoke, however, “Yes,” he said, tightly, “We’re fine. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Brendon sighed as Ryan left the room and let his head drop down onto his arms. Then he picked up his pen and scribbled a few lines down.

_It was beautifully depressing_

_Like ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’_

_They were fighting for a love that had started growing tired_

*

When Brendon finally got up from his chair, two hours had passed and he hadn’t written another line.

He headed to the kitchen first and the clock on the wall told him that it was almost one AM.

The tap was too loud when he ran the water, filling a glass with the cool liquid, and the silence when he shut it off was welcoming. He leant up against the counter and sipped his drink, wondering whether or not Ryan was still awake.

Possibly. Probably. Uncertain.

His left hand tapped at the surface, his nails sounding an offbeat rhythm. Then he sighed and let his head hang down a little.

“Are you ever coming up?”

A voice interrupted his thoughts, making his head shoot up and he nearly dropped the glass in shock.

“Ryan,” Brendon said, breathing heavily outwards in an attempt to slow his heart rate. “You scared me,” he added on, lamely.

Ryan almost laughed, “Which time?” He carried on before Brendon could ask what he meant, and said, “Seriously though, were you planning on coming up?”

He was wearing and old shirt and loose trackie bottoms, his hair slightly ruffled, as if he had tried to sleep but couldn’t, and Brendon bit his lip. “Do you want me to?”

Ryan flinched, “What’s that supposed to mean?” he bit back.

Brendon shrugged, “You tell me,” he muttered.

“Oh, screw you,” Ryan snapped. “I’m doing my best here, Urie.” The un-hyphenated surname was a ‘fuck you’ in itself, and Brendon didn’t miss it.

“Your best?” Brendon really needed to learn when to stop. “Your _best?_ Ryan, you’re hardly trying.” Really, learn when to stop. “You leave whenever we get close; retreat when we’re getting somewhere; shy away from anything close to intimacy.” Stop, stop, stop.

Ryan stared at him with dark eyes, and his mouth started to twist into something hideous. “What the Hell else am I supposed to do?” He demanded. “I told you – I _fucking_ _told you_ – to take it slow.”

“We’ve been taking it slow for weeks, when are you going to catch up?” Brendon shouted.

“Maybe I should just go out and shag some random stranger! That seemed to fix all of _your_ problems!” Ryan yelled back, and Brendon’s jaw dropped open.

“That has nothing to do with this!” Brendon argued, and Ryan immediately shouted back, “That has _everything_ to do with this!”

They were yelling with all the anger they could muster, but they hadn’t moved any closer; there was no threat of physical violence.

“I can’t even look at you right now; I don’t want to hear anything you have to say! I can’t believe you’re defending what you did!” Ryan yelled.

“I never said that!” Brendon protested, “I _never_ said that!”

 Ryan was seething, and Brendon was trying to backtrack. Brendon was babbling something, repeating over and over that that wasn’t what he said or meant, but Ryan cut him off, “Stop. I don’t care.” He was bristling with anger, and his eyes were filling with tears. He would have been shaking, but became solid instead. His hands didn’t shake, but they clenched into fists at his sides. “You are so selfish.”

Brendon couldn’t take that lying down – even if he knew he should, “Oh, I’m sorry, _I’m_ selfish?” His voice rose at the end in indignation.

Ryan’s voice was flat and so close to not having emotion in it, if it weren’t for that small wobble, “Yes.” He said. He cursed. “You know your problem? You think you’re so entitled to everything you want.”

“Excuse me?” Brendon’s voice rose slightly.

“Do you ever take into account how hard this is for me?” Ryan shouted.

Both of their voices continued to get louder and louder as they screamed at each other, both of them becoming visibly more upset.

“If you hate it that much, why don’t you just leave?” Brendon yelled viciously.

“You don’t have to tell me; I’m already gone.” Ryan spat back, before spinning on his heel and storming out.

The door slammed shut behind him, and silence echoed through the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh sorry i'm getting bad at remembering to upload (though i'm pretty sure i've only got like two readers if that)


	15. It's Certainly Worth It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm not going anywhere," he whispered.

Brendon felt sick, tears were filling his eyes. His hand jumped, tapping at the surface. A sudden need for movement burst through him and he leaped to his feet, ready to chase Ryan out into the street, when the door creaked open, revealing Ryan standing there, looking shaken, tears streaming down his face. Brendon didn’t even think twice before moving forwards, arms opening and letting Ryan in, hugging him and holding him close, “Don’t  _ever_ let me leave after a fight,” Ryan sobbed.

“I won’t,” Brendon whispered, “I won’t.” He buried his face in Ryan’s shoulder, feeling Ryan do the same, and held Ryan as tightly as he could, making Ryan feel unbreakable. “I know you’re still uncertain and I’m sorry for pressing that,” he murmured softly, “Just know that you’re worth it, you’re worth the wait and you’re worth my patience, and I’ll give that to you.”

Ryan nodded, still held to Brendon tightly, still holding Brendon tightly, and he simply sighed.

They stood there holding each other, and something was building up in Ryan, a thought that needed to be voiced:

“I don’t even know if I can trust you anymore.” His voice shook, sounded almost scared, but there it was, out in the open. Ryan’s final admittance. His eyes were filling with tears, tears that made him feel weak but he couldn’t stop. His lip trembled, “I just can’t trust you anymore,” he said again.

 “Ryan, I-,”

“ _God,”_ Ryan sighed, “Shut up, Brendon.” Frustration was built up inside him, threatening to bubble over, and it lodged in his throat, choking him. He pulled away, standing a short distance from Brendon and he breathed out heavily, dispelling the lump in his throat.

Brendon finally fell silent.

Ryan cursed and rubbed at his face. “I thought I could trust you, but I can’t. I just can’t. I love you, though, and I can’t be without you, I just can’t.”

Brendon watched him with careful eyes, hesitant and unsure of what Ryan was trying to say.

“Love is difficult,” Ryan said at last. “I know that. But we wouldn’t fight so hard for it if we didn’t know that it’s also so worth it.” Ryan sighed and chewed at the inside of his cheek a little before continuing, “My parents argued a lot. I mean, my Dad slept in the car more times than I care to remember, but even through all that, never once did he drive off. He was always still there in the morning. I think that’s how I know they loved each other. Love is blind. Everyone knows that. What they don’t understand is that sometimes the blindness is over not realising that you do still love each other. It’s in the little things. It’s in the smiles, and the ‘Good Morning’s. It’s in the way you subconsciously draw circles on my skin while we’re watching TV. It’s in the way my Dad never drove away. It’s in the way my Mom always let him back in. It’s in the fights and the arguments. The breakups and the breakdowns.”

Ryan let out a small breathy laugh, looking into Brendon’s eyes, and he smiled. Brendon still looked a little uncertain, “Are you saying-?”

“I’m saying that I’ll take it all if I get to have you.” Ryan interrupted. He looked so open, so honest, tear tracks still evident on his face, “The fights, the anger, the frustration, the music, the happiness, the love, I’ll take it all. You’re there. That’s all I need. You’re worth it, Brendon.”

*

_I can't take them on my own, my own_

Ryan’s voice was soft, his cheek pressed against Brendon’s chest as Brendon threaded his fingers through Ryan’s hair.

_Don’t wanna call you in the nighttime_

_Don’t wanna give you all my pieces_

_Don’t wanna hand you all my trouble_

_Don’t wanna give you all my demons_

He took a deep breath, skipping over a few lines as he shut his eyes tight and let his entire body soak up the feeling of being near to Brendon.

 

_Tonight, I’ll need you to stay_

Brendon’s chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm and Ryan felt so at peace.

 

_I am up against the wall, the wall_

_For I hear them coming down the hall_

Brendon smoothed down Ryan’s hair as Ryan’s voice melted into the chorus again, before joining him softly.

_But tonight I’ll need you to stay_

Their voices faded to nothing and Brendon wrapped his arms tighter around Ryan. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered.

Ryan didn’t reply, but his body shook a little, and Brendon could have sworn he felt the warm drops of tears dripping onto his skin. Ryan sniffed. Neither of them spoke again.

*

Three days later, Brendon, Spencer, and Dallon were sat in Brendon and Ryan’s front room, talking business. Well, that was what they were calling it. From Ryan’s point of view, they were playing video games, but hey, what did he know.

“No, no, no, no, FUCK!” Brendon’s voice screeched out, cursing at Dallon. Dallon just laughed.

Spencer was less vocal while playing, punching away at buttons with systematic determination. Brendon’s tactic was shouting and screaming and trying to shove his competition off the sofa. Dallon just laughed at everything.

Ryan made his way into the living room. He perched on the arm of the sofa and watched the guys play. Brendon was losing spectacularly, and, well, Ryan just couldn’t have that. He moved to stand behind Dallon and Spencer and put his hands over their eyes. “Go, Brendon, go!” he cheered on, laughing as Dallon started yelling and both he and Spencer attempted to dodge around his hands. Brendon laughed victoriously as he smashed the competition out of the waters, and gave Ryan a winning smile, turning round and kneeling up on the sofa to pull Ryan in for a thankful kiss.

“This is why I married you,” he chuckled. A second after he said it he realised his mistake, but Ryan just laughed it off, pecking his lips again and leaving them to their ‘business meeting’.

Dallon was looking at Brendon slightly oddly when he turned back to the other two and when Brendon raised an eyebrow at him questioningly he said, “It’s strange seeing you two being domestic.”

“Uh, why?” Brendon asked, confused.

Dallon laughed and shrugged, “I don’t know, I guess because you’re _The_ Ryan Ross and Brendon Urie of Panic! At The Disco.” Brendon rolled his eyes and Dallon shrugged again, defensively, “Hey, the whole world knows you as two guys who go at it on the stage, not so much the domestic love life.”

“You’ve got a family,” Brendon pointed out, “You know what it’s like.”

Dallon smiled, “True.”

*

Time passed quickly, everything fall into routine, days into weeks and weeks into months, and everything was going smoothly. Dallon was a good addition to the touring band (and he was around so often, the word ‘touring’ almost might as well be dropped); Jon had announced that he was working on some solo work; Ryan and Brendon were still living together.

Late in the afternoon, Spencer and Ryan were sitting on a park bench; the sun was shining down brightly. Brendon and Jon were a little way off, laid out in the grass, clearly talking but inaudible to Ryan and Spencer’s ears.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Spencer asked, curiously.

Ryan threw him a look and rolled his eyes, “You say the dumbest shit.” Spencer just waited, expectantly. Ryan sighed.

“I’m thinking about… I have an idea.” Ryan admitted.

Spencer frowned, confused, “Okay,” he said slowly, “What’s the idea?”

Ryan glanced across to where Brendon was, nervously, but he smiled softly as he looked at him. Brendon was pointing up at the clouds, talking animatedly to Jon and gesturing at the sky. Spencer followed Ryan’s gaze and smiled too, almost fondly. Ryan wasn’t entirely sure that Spencer wasn’t looking at Jon, and not Brendon. Ryan swallowed and pulled himself back, “Well, it’s about Brendon.”

Spencer smiled, “You realised you love him again?”

“I never forgot,” Ryan replied, quickly, shaking his head, “No, I’ve realised that I trust him again.”

Spencer raised his eyebrows, “You sure?”

Ryan bit his lip and nodded, “I believe him. I believe that he never stopped loving me, and I believe that he wishes he could take it back, and I believe that he knows it was the worst thing he’s ever done. I believe him when he says he’d never do anything even close to that again.”

Spencer was watching him intently. Ryan shifted in his seat and looked across at Brendon again, “I’ll never really forgive him, y’know, but I think it’s time for more.”

“Are you saying-?” Spencer started to ask.

Ryan nodded, “Yeah, I am.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out something small and golden. He held it in his palm, so that Spencer could see it but there was no risk of Brendon seeing it.

“Your wedding ring,” Spencer said in a hushed voice. He blinked and stared at Ryan, “When and _how_ did you steal that away from Brendon?”

Ryan laughed softly, “He was asleep. I’ve been married to him for two years now; I know how to sneak around him.”

Spencer laughed too, at that, and said, “He hasn’t noticed?”

“Not yet,” Ryan replied. They both looked over at Brendon and Jon again, and Ryan hid the ring back in his pocket, just to be on the safe side.

“So you were saying you had an idea?”

*

Ryan threw their bag into the back seat of the car before stepping aside to let Brendon into the passenger seat. “I’m still not sure what’s happening,” Brendon said as he slid into the seat with a confused look on his face.

“I’m sure it won’t take you long to figure out,” Ryan answered, shutting the door and walking round to get into the driver’s seat. Brendon frowned at him as he started up the engine. Ryan just smiled back, “Trust me, okay?”

Brendon settled back into his seat a little, still frowning, and said, “Okay. Trust you, sure.”

Ryan laughed, “Just relax and enjoy the ride.”

Brendon stretched out his arm to turn the radio on. He spun the volume control button, turning it up, and turned to look out of the window as Ryan pulled out of their street. Ryan watched Brendon out of the corner of his eye and his heart was pounding in his chest. He took a deep breath subtly and made himself calm down.

The sun was shining in through the windscreen, making the car warm and comfortable, and the music was turned up loud. Brendon had wound his window down and was resting his elbow on the ledge, tapping his fingernails against the plastic in time to the music. Ryan was smiling as he watched the way the wind blew through Brendon’s hair and the sun lit up the small smile on Brendon’s lips.

Inside Ryan’s pocket his wedding ring was heavy and hot and his stomach fluttered every time he thought of it. This was the right decision, he was sure of it. He’d thought long and hard about it, almost changing his mind a thousand times, but he knew it was right. What was the point in marriage if you weren’t going to work through the fights? What was the point in love if you weren’t going to go to war for it?

It was a long car journey and they stopped multiple times for coffee and food. Ryan purposefully stopped a way from the town to stay overnight so that Brendon wouldn’t work out where they were going too soon, but that didn’t stop Brendon from trying to guess.

When they set out the next morning Brendon wouldn’t stop asking Ryan questions about where they were going.

Ryan kept his mouth shut, a proud little smirk on his lips. Brendon just gave him a hard stare before going back to staring out the window and singing along to the music under his breath.

It was one PM when they rolled into town, and Brendon’s eyes went wide the second he realised where they were, “Holy shit, is this-?” he gaped.

Ryan laughed. He turned the car down the street pulled up at the side of the road, right in front of a very familiar house. Brendon jumped out of the car not two seconds after they had stopped moving.

Ryan followed suit, turning off the ignition and pocketing the keys. Brendon was staring up at the house, “God,” he said, when Ryan reached him, “It’s been, what? Two years?”

“Longer,” Ryan said with a smile.

They stood and stared up at the house, both thinking the same things.

This was where it all started – or, at least, where what had started as teenagers finally got a jump-start into fruition.

They were standing in front of the house where they first kissed, where they first said ‘I Love You’, where they had fought, where they had argued, where they had fallen in love.

“Ry, I don’t understand…” Brendon whispered, his eyes fixed on the house.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only one more chapter to go :)   
> just wanted to say thank you for your lovely comments on the last chapter. that was unexpected and amazing. thank you for reading this, you're awesome.


	16. Wishing and Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re my addiction, my beautiful, beautiful addiction, and I’m not going on any 12-step recoveries.

Brendon stared up at the house incredulously, “Ryan, what are we doing-,” he turned to look at Ryan, and felt his mouth go dry and his words fade out of existence.

Ryan was holding something in between his thumb and forefinger, holding it high so the sun hit it and reflected off the gold metal. “Is that-?”

“My wedding ring,” Ryan finished for him, “Yeah, it is.”

Brendon’s right hand jumped to his left, fingering his own ring which hadn’t left his finger once. “What- Uh, what are you doing with it?”

Ryan smiled and then lifted his left hand and gently slid the ring onto his fourth finger, “I’m marrying you. Again.” Then he laughed, deliriously.

Brendon started to smile, “You mean-?”

“Yeah,” Ryan interrupted, “That’s exactly what I mean.” And he was grinning at Brendon, in front of the house where they fell in love, only this time they were married.

Brendon all but threw himself at Ryan, hands wrapping around his waist as he kissed him passionately and intensely. His hips pressed against Ryan’s as he curved his body into Ryan. Ryan grinned against Brendon’s lips, arms wrapping around his neck, one stretched out straight. His eyes were shut and he was filled with the buzzing happiness that he usually associated with Brendon.

Brendon was the first to pull away, hands resting on Ryan’s waist as he gazed at him with unadorned sincerity in his love, “Coffee?”

A breathy laugh escaped from Ryan, “Absolutely. We should go back to that place, the one we used to go to all the time, God, what was it called?”

Brendon shook his head, grinning, “Fuck if I know, but I know where it is.”

They separated, but not fully, hands maintaining the link between them. Brendon led the way, but he walked beside Ryan, letting their hands swing between them. Neither one could stop smiling.

Finding their way to the table they used to sit at, Ryan giggled, “It’s weird being back here.”

Brendon laughed too, pulling out a chair for Ryan to sit down in, “You’re telling me.”

Ryan considered him for a second, before opening his bag and pulling out a lined notebook and a handful of biros. “Don’t mock me,” he said seriously, “But I’ve had this idea…”

Quickly explaining the idea, Ryan watched Brendon with nervous eyes and was relieved to see that Brendon actually looked pretty keen on the idea. “Yeah,” Brendon said, grinning, “Yeah, I love it.”

Brendon opened the lined notebook Ryan had brought and tore out a few pages, passing them across to Ryan along with two biros. Then he picked up a pen of his own and considered the blank page. Where could he begin with a story like theirs? He glanced up at Ryan and Ryan was watching him, “Any idea what you’re gonna write?” Ryan asked.

Brendon frowned at him jokily, “Hey, now, that’s not how this works. No peeking till we’re done.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, “Alright then.” He got to his feet and dragged his chair round so that it faced Brendon across the table. From there he continued to watch Brendon. Chewing at his lower lip he twisted the pen in his hand round and round. Then he grinned and leant over the paper to scrawl out a couple of sentences. Brendon frowned at him, wanting to know what he was writing, but there were rules, so he stuck to them. He thought for a moment longer before mimicking Ryan and hastily scribbling a few lines onto the paper.

Everyone now and then their eyes would jump up to look at the other, examining him while deep in thought, and sometimes they would happen to glance up at the same time and their eyes would meet, and they’d both laugh, blushing and feeling silly with love.

Brendon stared at Ryan, one time that Ryan hadn’t looked up too, and watched him as his hand moved across the paper, writing words in his swirly handwriting. Brendon smiled, admiring how Ryan looked in the light. Twisting his biro round and round in his hand he put it down for a moment, picking up his coffee and sipping at it, continuing to stare at Ryan, in thought. Ryan’s eyes were flicking back and forth across the paper as he wrote, his long eyelashes looking almost non-existent in the sunlight.

Brendon sipped at his drink again, before putting the mug down on the table and running his finger around the rim of it, still watching Ryan.

“Are you gonna write or just sit there and stare at me?” Ryan asked suddenly, lifting his eyes to look at Brendon.

Brendon laughed at being caught, “You got me. Sorry. Can I help it if you’re so beautiful?”

Ryan rolled his eyes, but Brendon could see that he was smiling, as he turned back to writing. Brendon followed suit, eyes dropping to his page and picking up his pen once more. The ink ran across his paper smoothly as he wrote, words flowed from the tip of the pen as naturally as if they had been spoken aloud – perhaps more naturally.

A long while later, Brendon’s page was covered in the black writing. Thick lines had almost torn through the paper in places where he’d crossed things out, and in other places the writing was so cramped it was barely legible, and then in other places there were short sentences, and in some there were long sentences, winding and filled with commas. Finally, he was done. He looked up at Ryan for the first time since being scolded for doing so and was surprised to find Ryan looking at him, “You done?” Brendon asked.

Ryan smiled, “Yup.”

Brendon peeked at Ryan’s page: it was much neater than Brendon’s own, not a single sentence crossed out, and Brendon was surprised – that wasn’t how Ryan usually wrote – until he noticed a second sheet next to it that was clearly the original.  “How long have you been finished?” Brendon asked, frowning.

“Ten minutes or so,” Ryan said vaguely.  “You ready?”

Brendon glanced at his page, and then up at Ryan, “Yeah, yeah I think I am.”

Ryan slid his page across the table to Brendon, and Brendon did the same towards him. They looked at each other for a moment long, Ryan’s mouth twisting up into a wry smile, and Brendon giggled, “I love you,” he told Ryan.

“I love you too,” Ryan laughed. Then his eyes dropped to the paper and he settled back into his chair, feet up on another empty chair as he began to read.

Brendon picked up Ryan’s page, and smiled at the neat handwriting, his eyes flashed up to look at Ryan briefly before focusing on the actual content on the paper and he also began to read.

It was written like a letter:

_Dear Brendon, my one true love, my favourite human being, my personal idiot,_

_I’m so glad I met you, even after everything. I’m also glad that you are the most stubborn person in existence, because I’m sure that anyone else would have given up on me a long time ago._

_There was something that you once said to me, I can’t remember your exact wording but it’s been stuck in my mind, especially these past few months. You told me that I’m terrible at taking compliments, that I always get embarrassed. It was true – I couldn’t stand them but I’ve been thinking about it differently now. I’m learning not to shy away from compliments, and not to be embarrassed by them, much the same way that I have to learn to not shy away and be embarrassed by the fact that I – brace yourself – have feelings. _

_Yeah, you make me feel, you make me alive, you make me realise that falling isn’t always a bad thing. You make me drunk._

_You remind me of the sun. Loving you is risky, I could lose everything, but, baby, bring on the blindness and the sunstroke because I’d rather have that than not have you at all. Much the way having the sun comes with side effects; I’d be pretty screwed without you._

_With you by my side, I feel invincible. With you in my arms, I feel unshakable. With you in my life, I could happily live forever. I don’t say that lightly, either; you know my opinion on living forever. Why on Earth would you want to live forever? – you don’t know what’s coming. But if you were with me, stuck in our eternal lives, I’d be okay with it._

_So, what I’m trying to say is, I love you._

_(But I got carried away.)_

_Yours (eternally?),_

_Ryan Ross-Urie._

Ryan was still reading when Brendon looked up, so he read the letter again. Ryan was smiling as he read:

_I wrote a poem once, about you. Or maybe it was about me. I’m not sure. It couldn’t be called a song but it was about love and selfishness, how the two seem to come hand-in-hand more often than I’d probably like. I’ll let you read it, one day, but the last stanza went like this:_

& so,  
My Selfish Love  
Will hold you  
In my arms,  
& with my lips,  
That were made  
For you.

_The point of all this is that I’m a selfish guy. But one thing you have to know about me is that I’m rarely selfish for me. That doesn’t make sense. I’m selfish, for you and because of you. Which sounds ridiculous, but it’s the least selfish form of selfishness that I know of._

_The poem as a whole talks about my selfishness, and then turns around, right at the end, and says that I do it all for you. I don’t know if that’s good enough, but it’s what I’ve got._

_If it hadn’t been you that I was fighting for, I probably wouldn’t have fought. I’d have let this hypothetical other person slip away, fade out of my life. Not you, though, never you._

_If there’s one thing I’ve learnt from this (and I’ve learnt a lot more than one thing) it’s that I can’t possibly lose you. That’s for two reasons, (a) we’re too strong for that and we’re too destined to be together. Somehow, I know that whatever happens, the universe will just keep throwing us into situations designed to both tear us apart and keep us together, and isn’t that one hell of an oxymoron. Also, (b), coming back to my original point, I’m too selfish to let you go. Sitting here, in this café with you, not too far from the place where I first told you I loved you, I can’t keep my eyes off you. (In fact, you just told me off for staring.)_

_You’re so beautiful, so damn beautiful. There’s something about the way the light is coming in through the window that makes you shine. I want to wake up with you every day of my life, just so I can look at you every day of my life. Your kind of beauty never fades – mostly because it’s inside of you as well as out._

_You’re the most talented person that I’ve ever met and also the most complicated, and I’m so lucky that you chose to love me; that you let yourself love me._

_How did I know, that your hands were meant to match with mine? How did I know, that your lips were made to breathe with me? How did I know, that your skin was designed to be the map I follow? The same way I knew that I loved you – instinctively._

_You’ve worked your way into my very being and I don’t think you’re ever leaving._

_You’re my addiction, my beautiful, beautiful addiction, and I’m not going on any 12-step recoveries._

Ryan looked up at Brendon, eyes shining with almost-tears.

Their eyes met and Brendon started to grin.

Ryan smiled back at him and slid his hand across the table to hold Brendon’s, “We’re really gonna make it, aren’t we?” he said in a joyful voice.

“Damn right,” Brendon beamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this and well done for sticking with me right till the end, I’m impressed.
> 
> There are two songs that I thought about a lot while writing this fic:
> 
> The first was Tattooed Tears by The Front Bottoms. It’s not like a movie when we kiss, there'll never be no music when we kiss, And I’m gonna have to learn that this love will never be convenient.
> 
> The second was Twin Size Mattress, also by The Front Bottoms which I quoted at the start of chapter 5. With tears in my eyes, I begged you to stay, You said, “Hey man, I love you, but no fucking way.”
> 
> Again, thank you so much for reading. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it! (I hope you’ll join me for part three? if I get round to writing it - is anyone interested in a part three?)  
> And finally, if you enjoyed this: [buy me a coffee?](http://ko-fi.com/A831F9U)


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